


Heart and Soul

by Pandamomochan



Series: Heart and Soul [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bruce is the moody piano teacher, Clark is the wayward composer, Disabled Character, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rating will probably go up, Romance, theyre gonna fix eachother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-11 12:39:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 35
Words: 150,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7892599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pandamomochan/pseuds/Pandamomochan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark Kent used to be a renowned composer who was said to be able to write masterpieces that were designed uniquely for each individual player. Famous musicians around the world would flock to him in hopes that he would write for them because his pieces were always said to bring out any player's crowning performance. That is, until one day Clark loses his wife in a tragic accident and decides never to write again.</p><p>Years later, Clark's son, Jon, gets admitted to the famous "Gotham School of Performing Arts". It is there that Clark meets Bruce Wayne, a strict, uptight, by the book piano instructor who is said to be able to craft the best musicians around the world.</p><p>Of course, the two of them don't get along, until one day Bruce happens upon the unfinished piece Clark wrote for his late wife and plays it perfectly...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pathetique

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t even know what I am doing with my life anymore. Instead of preparing for my trip next week, or working on one of my other fics, I decide to start a completely new one.
> 
> So, I was rewatching the anime “You’re Lie in April,” it’s a really touching anime that centers around the theme of music, and I was suddenly hit with this idea, and as usual, when I get knocked with inspiration this hard, I can’t let the moment pass me by.
> 
> So basically I ended up spending my entire Saturday drafting ideas for this story, and then out of nowhere I decided to write out the entire first chapter in the matter of one night (I don’t do that very often because I usually just can't).
> 
> In any case, even though this is an AU (which I told myself not to do again), I hope I can pull out a somewhat enjoyable story for everyone using thease already lovable characters. If anything, at least enjoy them ;D

_“They say music is the gateway to the soul. It is formless, timeless, and knows no bounds. It’s not constrained by the conventions of language or inhibited by a single conformist interpretation._

_A person’s heart brought to life over the waves of sound, the intangible embodiment of human thought and expression._

_Whether it is heard, played, or written, it touches each person, each soul differently, and what it defines for that separate individual is what it truly becomes.”_

She stood in the doorway with her head bowed and her eyes cast in a direction that made every effort to avoid his own.

“I’m sorry Clark, but I’ve taken Jon as far as I can go.”

He saw her words coming before she even opened her mouth. 

Unfortunately, by now, he was good at reading the signs. He knew this posture well. It was the bearings of a person readying themselves to deliver bad news. He didn’t know exactly what she would say, but he knew from appearance alone, it wasn’t something good. 

“So what are you saying?” Clark asked after a few more seconds of drawn out silence. “Has he finally reached his peak?”

Her emeralds irises lit up at Clark’s words, and her features turned just as anxious.

“No, of course not!” The woman quickly reassured. “Jon is a remarkable student and musician, but because of his _special_ circumstances, I as his teacher can no longer help him grow.”

“I see…” Clark trailed while glancing dismally towards the ground.

Realizing the man was once again misinterpreting her words, the woman placed a soft hand to Clark’s shoulder and smiled at him emphatically. “Clark, I truly believe Jon has so much untapped potential, and given the right instruction, he can do amazing things. He truly has inherited Lois’s talent and your musical sense.”

The corner of Clark’s mouth turned up. “Yeah, he’s the best of us both.”

“That even I can agree with,” the woman laughed lightly while giving him a firm pat.

After that, the dark atmosphere in the room began to fade, and both speakers’ stances eased.

“In any case, Clark,” the woman continued while handing him a large pamphlet. “If you really want Jon to continue down this career path, I think I may have a suggestion for where he should turn to next.”

“Gotham’s School of Performing Arts?” Clark unconsciously read aloud. 

“Yes,” she answered with a nod. “The GSPA.”

For a moment, Clark flipped through the program, not exactly reading anything while he absently went through the motions.

His forehead furrowed into a shape of apprehension.

“Well, I’ve heard that Gotham has produced several remarkable musicians and is one of the top performing art schools in the nation, but isn’t the Metropolis Institute more critically renowned?”

“Well, for the most part that's true,” the woman sighed with resignation. “But Jon’s expertise is playing the piano, and as far as piano instructors go, Gotham takes the cake.”

The wrinkles on Clark’s brow deepened, and that was all the expression the woman needed to see he was not convinced.

“Trust me, Clark. This is where Jon should study next.”

He looked back in her direction. Her eyes looked desperate and imploring. It was obvious she was trying everything in her facial power to convey her honest sincerity over the matter.

He smiled at her warmly, happy that someone other than him cared so deeply about Jon’s future. 

“Thank you, Lana, for all your advice, and also for being so patient and helping Jon all these years,” his voice slightly dropped. “Not many teachers would have even bothered with a student like him…He wouldn’t be where he’s at today if not for you.”

She shrugged and half-smirked. “Well, Jon is definitely the one who deserves the most credit. I just merely taught him the basics, and he did all the hard work. I’m sure Lois could have done ten times better than I…”

Her face instantly paled.

“Clark, I’m so sorry,” Lana frantically apologized. “I was just rambling off without thinking…”

He shook his head, and though his eyes seemed a bit dim, he looked perfectly assuring. “It’s okay. You meant well. In any case,” he added with a lighter tone. “I will look into this school. Thanks again.”

Her face warmed back to relief, and she couldn’t help but smile back. “Sure thing, Clark. What are friends for?”

**********************************************************

Two azure spheres lit up with enthralled excitement as the small child took in every sight with lively appraisal.

“Wow! This school is humongous!” the boy acclaimed.

“Yes, it’s much bigger than I imagined,” Clark nodded as he continued to thumb through the school ground’s map while using his peripherals to keep track of where they were walking.

“Did you see the size of that music hall?” The boy sung out as he skipped alongside him.

“I sure did,” Clark mumbled as they made a right turn down the hall.

“When I shouted, my voice carried on forever,” the boy continued explaining while cupping his hands in front of his face for added effect.

“Haha, I heard,” Clark chuckled back mildly.

“And they had so many instruments, more than I ever seen in my life, even more than when we went to see that concert last spring!”

“Yes, it was a lot.”

The boy continued to bounce. “And they had so many trophies!”

“Mmm hmm.”

Clark felt a tug at his sleeve, and when he looked down he could see the mess of raven hair instantly disappear and be replaced with wide sparkling eyes.

“And I really get to play here?”

Clark felt his chest warm at the pair of blue circles. “I’m sure you will eventually, son.”

Somehow the boy’s pupils enlarged even further. “I can’t wait!”

“Mr. Kent?” a voice called out.

Clark immediately turned towards the sound, but his son continued to walk off without him.

“Yes, that’s me,” Clark answered while making a grab for Jon’s backpack and pulling him back in the right direction.

The woman’s caramel eyes lit up as she quickly rushed toward Clark with an extended hand. “Wow, it really is an honor to have you here. I’ve wanted to meet you for so many years.”

“Is that so…” Clark trailed as he accepted the shake.

“Yes, I am a huge fan of your work!”

Clark’s wary look turned to one of question. “Excuse me, I’m sorry, but I didn’t catch your name?”

“Oh, how rude of me” the woman gasped. “I am the Chancellor of the GSPA, Marion Grange.”

Clark’s face sparked with realization. “Oh Chancellor Grange, it’s great to finally meet you in person.”

She nodded. “No, the pleasure is all mine, Mr. Kent. After I heard your piece in Carnegie, I became an instant fan.”

“Dad?” Jon asked with an inquiring gaze, as though he had no idea with the pair was talking about.

“Oh, is this Jon?” Marion asked as she leaned down so she and the boy were more level.

“Yes, this is my son.”

“Hello, Jon,” Marion smiled as she held out her hand. “It is a pleasure to have you here. I’m sure someone with your lineage and talent will fit around here perfectly.”

The boy blushed furiously and kept most of his body shielded behind Clark’s legs. However he still made the effort to return Marion’s shake. 

“Th-thank you, mam…” Jon mumbled.

Marion stood back up and started to address Clark again. 

“I was simply amazed when I heard Jon’s admittance piece. I never would have even known that he was-”

“Chancellor Grange,” Clark interrupted with the nervous clearing of his throat. “Maybe it’s best for us to talk inside your office?”

“Oh yes, goodness me,” Marion exclaimed with an abashed expression. “I don’t know where my head is right now. I don’t usually act like this. I guess maybe I was a bit overexcited to finally meet you,” she gestured towards a nearby room. “Please, step inside my office.”

“ _Daad_ ,” Jon whimpered as he pulled on Clark’s pants. “Do you mind if I look around just a bit more?”

Clark gave the boy a troubled look. “Jon, I don’t know if you should be wandering around alone. There are kids in class right now...”

“Its fine, Mr. Kent,” Marion encouraged. “Let the boy get a feel for his new surroundings.” 

Clark still seemed a bit anxious but eventually lost his resolve when he caught Jon’s pleading gaze.

“Okay,” Clark sighed out. “Just don’t interrupt anyone, and don’t run off too…far.”

“OKAY!” The boy shouted as he ran further down the hall than Clark would have liked.

****************************************************

“Jon?” 

After his meeting with the chancellor was over, Clark started to venture the halls for his son.

The building really was impressive in its size and architecture. The more Clark roamed the school’s campus, the more comforted he felt about his decision.

Honestly, Clark was always extremely protective of his son, and considering the distance of the school from his home, Jon would be required to stay at the campus dorms.

Clark had been a little bit more than apprehensive over the whole venture. However, if this meant his son would be provided a better opportunity, Clark had no choice but to relieve some of the restraints on his paternal reigns, though it still ended up taking quite a bit convincing on Jon’s part. Luckily for him, Lana had also talked to Clark’s parents, and by the time they got through with him, Clark had to give in.

“Where could he have gone?” Clark mumbled under his breath as he poked his head into one of the empty classrooms.

It was then that heard the sound of a familiar melody sounding not too far in the distance.

_‘This song…’_

Without any further thought, Clark’s feet began to move towards the music.

_‘Beethoven’s Sonata Pathetique?’_

Clark felt a slight ache in his chest. _‘Lois loved this piece…’_

Eventually Clark’s drifting led him to an open music hall. 

There at a well-polished grand piano sat a young girl not much older than his son. Standing in front of her was a broad shouldered man, waving his hands in a conducting gesture with his back to the entrance. No doubt it was one of the students practicing with a teacher.

“Beautiful…” Clark sighed as he closed his eyes and listened to the amiable echoes fill the hall.

A nostalgic feeling welled up inside of Clark and worked its way throughout his entire body, reaching down to tips of his fingers and toes.

_‘Though I can tell the player is still a bit rough in her fundamentals, she still plays so deep from her soul,’_ Clark thought as he took in a long breath and continued to enjoy the song. 

Eventually the music stopped and was replaced with the grating sound of a wand continuously smacking down on a stand.

“No, No, NO!” The conductor barked before eventually tossing the stick to the ground. “It’s all wrong!”

The girl shrank under his snarl, but the man didn’t even seem the slightest bit phased.

“You butchered it. You didn’t even attempt to keep the timing. Your rhythm was all wrong! After the second bridge, your fingering got sloppy at every run, and what the hell happened to you at the Rondo? It’s like you were just making up the music at that point.”

“I apologize Maestro,” the girl stammered back. “It was my favorite part, so I guess I-”

“Decided to play your own rendition?” The many crassly interrupted. “As if Beethoven didn’t know what he was doing when he wrote this piece? That Miss Kelley suddenly knew better than him?”

“No Maestro,” the girl quickly defended. She then winced as the piano fall was suddenly slammed shut and watched wanly as the instructor leaned down on it so his glare could be more easily seen.

“Please Ms. Kelley, do not waste anymore of my time,” he pointed towards the exit. “Come back when you are ready to play Beethoven’s _Allegro di molto e con brio_ , not Carrie Kelley’s favorite way to make dead composers turn in their graves.”

“Y-yes Maestro…” the girl all but sobbed before dashing out of the arena.

The maestro didn’t even bat an eye as the girl finally made her way out.

“Don’t you think you were being a little bit too harsh?” Clark asked sternly from the floor.

At some point during their interaction, Clark had made his way to the end of the stage, the protective side of him feeling the need to come to the child’s defense.

“Who asked you?” The man snapped as he quickly turned his scowl in Clark’s direction. 

Clark crossed his arms over his chest, and raised his posture to a more intimidating height. For some reason, the man felt the need to do it considering he was literally on a lower playing field than the man towering on the stage.

“I know she took a little liberty there at the end, but you have to admit for a girl her age she played the piece remarkably well.”

“Musical performance is ageless,” the man scoffed as he picked his wand off the ground. “I don’t care if you are 13 or 33. I know what Ms. Kelley is capable of, and that monstrosity she just performed was not it.”

“Well, I suppose as far as mastering the mechanics, she still has a ways to go, but she poured her heart into that performance, and it sounded better than players I know who have been performing for longer than she’s been alive.

With time and practice she will easily get down the basics of that song, but if you ask me, she has already mastered the hardiest part.”

“Oh,” the man sneered with a quirk of his brow. “And what would that be?”

Clark brought a hand to the center of chest and answered, “Conveying its true meaning and beauty to the audience.”

Had the man not been smiling, Clark would have never recognized what he heard as a laugh. It was much too haughty and devoid of anything pleasant. 

“Oh, I think I finally recognize who you are,” the maestro chuckled as he leaned over the stage.

“Huh?” Clark blinked, and for the first time he was able to completely see past the blaring stage lights and into the man’s face. 

His eyes were an icy yet alluring shade of blue, and even though his features were tight and mocking, there was no doubting that his level of attractiveness was on a field Clark didn’t even know existed.

For some reason, this fact only aggravated Clark more.

“You are that _has-been_ composer, Mr. Clark Kent, right?” The man asked as he cut through Clark’s gawking with an insult.

Clark felt his anger boil. “Excuse me?”

“Yes,” the man leered as he finally hopped off the stage and into Clark’s space. “I remember several of my students raving on about how they wanted you to write special music numbers for them. I think you may have for a few of them.”

He started to walk opposite Clark with his hands behind his back but didn’t stop with his jeers.

“Something about how you were basically the new musical poet of our time, always matching the perfect piece to every player,” he stopped and titled his head backwards so Clark could perfectly see his smirk.

“But if you ask me, there was nothing special at all about what you wrote. They were all mediocre in composition and simple for any run of the mill person to play.”

At this point, Clark’s fists were clenched tighter than his jaw as he struggled not to lose his cool. Instead he just exhaled lowly and replied steadily back. 

“What I wrote wasn’t meant to be difficult for the player. What I wrote was something uniquely designed to give each performer the ability to freely express themselves to their audience.”

“Tch, pretty pointless if you ask me,” the man snorted through his nose.

“I didn’t,” Clark gritted back.

Finally the man’s smile dropped. He then whirled back around and stomped directly in front of Clark’s face. 

“And neither did I ask your opinion on how I should instruct my students!” he snapped while pointing his wand at Clark. “As if I need advice from someone who turned his back on this industry. You go on and on about the heart and soul of music, as if you have some kind of connection with it, but as far as I can tell, you no longer have any right to say your piece on these matters.”

Something dark took the man’s royals as his lips curled back into a grim smile.

“Now if you don’t mind, I’d rather not waste anymore of my time babbling with some talentless _quitter_. I have to attend to students who actually want to make a difference in this community!”

“Why you!” Clark snarled as he grabbed the man by the front of his shirt.

“Oh, did my words upset you?” the man taunted, ignoring the fact that Clark now had him pulled up so high off the ground, he had to stand on his toes just to touch the floor. 

“You want to take a hit?” He leaned his chin to the side. “Go on. I dare you to _try_.”

“You aren’t worth the effort,” Clark huffed as he roughly pushed the man away. He then stormed out of the hall, making no attempt to look back at the smirking instructor.

“What an insufferable man!” Clark growled. “I hope Jon never has anything to do with that _ass_!”

*****************************************************

“Hey, you! What are you doing?” The group of teenagers shouted from the top of the stairs.

Upon getting out of their latest class, one of the kids happened by a concert hall where they noticed a small boy playing one of the pianos.

“Hey you! HEY!” the eldest boy bellowed down towards the stage.

The tiny performer didn’t even respond as he continued to strike away at the keys.

“Damn brat,” the teen grumbled under his breath as he and his group stormed their way in his direction. “I know you hear me.”

“What the hell does he think he’s doing?” the boy beside him complained. “No one is allowed to touch the maestro’s piano until they’ve earned the right.”

“Hey, brat!” The teen snapped as he slammed the piano lid shut just barely missing the kid’s fingers.

“Oh!” Jon blurted as he blinked wildly at the group. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” the kid questioned again.

“Oh, umm,” Jon stammered as his body began to curl into itself. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“We were shouting at you from the top of our lungs, but you just took it upon yourself to ignore us, huh?” Another boy snarled as he leaned down on the cowering Jon.

“N-no…I’m sorry, I didn’t…” Jon tried to explain.

“What’s wrong with you kid, you _deaf_ or something?”

Tears began to well up in the corner of Jon’s eyes, but before he could sputter out a reply, a familiar voice answered for him.

“Actually,” Clark frowned as he towered behind the boys. “He is.”

To Be Continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm, I wonder if people caught all the hints that something was up with Jon? Though he isn’t completely deaf, he’s still impaired enough to where he doesn’t hear very well and probably has no business playing a piano (or does he). More will be explained on his situation later.
> 
> So of course I had to have Bruce and Clark at odds with each other. Just like Batman and Superman, they both don’t really see eye to eye on how things should be done, even though, in the end, they are both looking to achieve the same goal. Day and night these two always seem to be.
> 
> I am going to have so much fun building their relationship and we all just know Bruce is going to end up as Jon’s instructor. So yeah, have fun with that Clark.
> 
> Right now, I am debating on adding Damian to this story as well. Maybe do a little side slash with him and Jon? Honestly, I don’t know that much about Jon, but I do want to model him after New Earth/Rebirth Jon (not the pre-crisis one who got turned into a supervillain). So from what I have read about this new Jon, he is an adorable little cinnamon roll, and that is how he will be portrayed in this fic. If he ends up being something otherwise later down the DC road, then oh well. 
> 
> Anyways, I hope folks were intrigued enough by this story. I usually write fluffy puff pieces but this particular fic is going to be a bit darker in its tone (but not nearly as bad as my other AU). I at least hope to have a hopeful happy ending :) Well, let me know what everyone thinks and thanks for reading and giving this fic a try!
> 
> Oh, and for those of you who like classical music (I know I LOVE it), or just want the added effect for this fic, here is the song Carrie was playing:
> 
> Beethoven: Sonata "Pathetique" Op. 13 - I. Grave. Allegro di molto e con brio: www.youtube.com/watch?v=kqvBJc9IovI
> 
> From now on, if I have the characters play any famous songs, I will be sure to add a link so people can hear it :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little forewarning, although I did used to be a band nerd way back when, I never learned how to play the piano. I specialized in woodwind and brass, but never touched any string instruments. It is my favorite instrument, but I was never taught how to play. So if I get some terminology wrong along the way, please forgive me. The only thing I know is that I love classical music, though I have been trying to research some things concerning the piano in hopes to make this story more fluid and accurate.
> 
> In any case, hope you still enjoy despite my overall ignorance of this subject, lol.

“And you’ll be sure to call me?”

The boy snickered back at the pair of anxious eyes searching his own intently.

“Of course, dad! Every weekend.”

Their conversation had gone on like this for the last five minutes, the older man re-embracing the boy after each affirmative reply from his son. 

“Now don’t hesitate to call if you’re ever in trouble or need any help.”

“Alright, dad,” Jon sighed as he patted Clark on his back. Shaking his head as he realized just how hopeless the man could actually be sometimes.

Finally Clark relinquished his hold and stood to his feet.

“The chancellor said after your first day, you will be assigned a personal instructor, and he or she will also be your confidant. So if you need anything right away, they should be able to help.”

“Okay…” Jon nodded, but when he was done shaking his head, it remained in a lowered state.

“Jon, I’m really going to miss you,” Clark sighed as he resisted the urge to hug the boy again.

“Me too dad,” Jon mumbled, his hands squeezing tightly on the ends of his shirt.

“Don’t worry though,” Clark reassured. “At the end of next week, I’ll be moved into the new apartment. I know it’s still a little far from the school, but at least we’ll be in the same city.”

Jon shook his head with acknowledgement but still refused to lift his face.

“Dad…” a small voice quietly mumbled out. “Do you think I will do alright? I’m different and not like the other kids…”

Clark felt his heart twist and once again he was kneeling down so he was level with his son.

“Of course you’ll do fine!” Clark exclaimed as he titled Jon’s chin up so that he could clearly meet Clark’s warm gaze. “Yes, you are special Jon, but in the good kind of way. You are a symbol of hope. Proof that anything can be accomplished if you put your whole heart into it.

I’ve heard you play a million times now, and I’ve also heard a million other kids play before. You are just as good, if not better than them.”

The corner of Jon’s mouth tugged into a coy smile.

“You’re just saying that because you’re my dad.”

“Haha, well, I am,” Clark chuckled as he ruffled the boy’s hair. “But don’t forget, it was your audition piece that got you here.”

A full grin formed and suddenly the boy was jumping into Clark’s arms. “Thanks dad!”

*********************************************

Clark didn’t even bother turning the lights on when he entered the house. He already had the entire layout of the home memorized. He lived at this place for the last 15 years of his life. A construction made from wood, stone, and nearly two decades of memories.

Clark nearly tripped over the box he ran into before he eventually conceded to turning on a light. It was then that he remembered that several things were now out of place. Packed away and sealed, ready for the inevitable move he would be making the following week.

Was this really what his years of life here amounted to, something so small and easily tucked inside fittings of cardboard and tape? How small and unimportant this chapter of life seemed when looking at it neatly folded and boxed away.

_‘It’s so quiet here now…’_

Clark slowly made his way down the hall, but stopped in front of the door just across from his room. It was the last room he hadn’t even attempted to pack.

When he stepped inside, the musty smell of disuse hit the back of his nose, leaving a stale taste inside his mouth. The room was dark and the only light shining in was that from the hall.

Stacks of old books and sheet music filled the shelves, and in the middle of the room sat one lonely little piano.

Clark ran his fingers along the black walnut surface, a streak of dust left behind as he disrupted the years of settled particles. This was the piano his parents bought for them as a wedding gift back when they first got married 15 years ago. This was the piano Clark could remember listening to for hours as the love of his life practiced away and lost track of the time.

Since then, Clark had purchased a more modern practical piano for Jon, but he could never bring himself to get rid of this one. However, now that he was moving, he no longer had room in his apartment for two pianos, and considering this one was obsolete and not ideal for Jon to use, the choice over which one to get rid of was obvious, and yet…

 _‘Lois…’_ Clark whispered into the darkness before his hand met his face, and he broke into tears.

_‘I miss you so much…’_

*********************************************

“I haven’t met my roommate yet. Right now he’s in Austria for a contest,” the boy explained.

Currently Jon was sitting at his desk, swinging his feet while leaning one hand against his ear so that the phone was rested in place.

“So how was your first week of classes?” Clark asked from the other end of the line.

“Oh, it was great! I love it here!” Jon beamed brightly.

“That’s wonderful!” Clark praised back.

After that, there was no stopping the boy as he started to speak in a quicker more energetic voice.

“I love all my classes, even the boring history one, but most importantly of all, I got assigned the best piano maestro in the entire school!”

“Really now?” Clark chuckled as he somehow felt his son’s bright smile from his side of the phone.

“Yes, Maestro Wayne is so cool!” Jon exclaimed excitedly. “He is really strict and a bit grumpy, but he’s already taught me so much! And you know all those trophies we saw when we first came here?”

“Yeah?”

“Over half of them belong to students he used to teach!”

“Really now, that is amazing,” Clark commended. Despite the distance, his son’s energy was still contagious.

Suddenly Clark’s tone dropped to something a bit more serious.

“So…” the man mumbled. “Did he say anything about your condition?”

“Yeah,” Jon hummed thoughtfully. “His exact words were-” Jon cleared his throat and spoke as gruffly as he could manage. “Don’t think I’m going to cut you any slack just because you can’t hear very well. I expect you to keep up with my curriculum just like any of my other students, and if you can’t handle it, you mine as well just quit the piano now.”

“WHAT?!” Clark blurted.

“Then he made me practice drills till my fingers cramped and afterwards my neck and back were so sore,” Jon chuckled casually.

At this point, Clark’s face had turned completely pale, and his voice and eyes were frantic.

“Jon, are you sure you’re okay? Is this maestro really alright? Is he there in the room with you? Are you speaking under duress? Say banana muffin if you are!”

Jon burst into another bout of laughter. “It’s fine dad. I’m perfectly fine. Maestro Wayne has already improved the speed of my intermediate scales by three seconds!”

“Oh!” Jon suddenly shouted. “Speaking of the maestro, I have to go now. Maestro assigns me a new song each session to mind play, and then when we meet again, I have to play it for him for the first time ever, and for every mistake I make, I have to do 15 Hanon exercises.”

“He what!” Clark exploded, but Jon didn’t even seem to notice his dad’s anxiety.

“Okay dad, it was great talking to you,” Jon chirped as he squeezed his phone as though he were mimicking a hug. “I love you, goodnight!” 

For a moment, Clark just listened to the dead receiver in stunned silence before eventually lowering his cell and mumbling. “I have a bad feeling about this maestro…”

****************************************************

“How was that Maestro? Was that any better?”

The man let out a vexed sound and replied. “Do you really need me to validate you every time you complete an exercise?”

Jon lowered his head and nodded. “Uhh, no, not exactly…it’s just…” his voice trailed down to a murmur. “I can’t really hear if I’m improving or not…”

“You don’t need to hear yourself to do a simple drill,” Bruce scoffed back.

Jon sunk even lower into his seat. “You’re right…but I can’t hear very well when I make a mistake.”

“Oh, you will know when you make a mistake,” Bruce laughed dryly. “I will be sure to inform you of that.”

“So then that must mean I haven’t messed up yet?” Jon asked with a more hopeful expression.

“Mr. Kent,” Bruce sighed tiredly. “What is it exactly that you are so worried about? We are just simply practicing. You aren’t even preparing for any competitions yet. Once you get to that point, then you can start fretting over nothing.”

“Well, I just wonder if I’m as good as your other students…”

“I don’t even bother comparing any of my students with each other,” Bruce shrugged. “When I’m counseling you, the only thing I am concerned about is whether you are meeting the standards I have put in place for you.”

“Oh, so then are my standards the same as your other students?”

“Of course not,” Bruce replied frankly.

Jon’s shoulders dropped. “Oh, because I’m _different_ …”

“Yes, all my students are,” Bruce nodded while examining the dejected looking boy. He then rolled his eyes before suddenly sitting down on the bench beside him.

“For instance…” Bruce started while he grabbed the boy by the wrist. “Give me your hand.”

Jon didn’t even have time to react before Bruce started to spread his fingers apart and hummed lowly to himself. “Yes, long skinny fingers. These are the perfect hands for playing the piano. Do you know how many of my students would kill for hands like these?”

He finally released Jon and then started to eye him up and down.

“Also you already have perfect posture and good stamina and you excel at your music reading and comprehension skills. Your previous teacher did an excellent job of making sure you became skilled at the things anyone can do but often slack on.”

“Oh…” Jon mumbled.

“What are you ‘Oh’ing about?” Bruce snorted.

The boy’s eyes fell towards the piano keys and away for Bruce’s glare.

“I guess those things are great and all, but if I can’t hear what I’m playing, aren’t I at a disadvantage?”

“Yes and no,” Bruce immediately answered. “Sure, it’s great for you to hear the mistakes you are making, but at the same time, such a thing can also become your greatest impediment.”

Bruce crossed his arms over his chest and sighed.

“Sometimes players get so wrapped up over their mistakes, they allow it to discourage them to the point of deadlock because often times what holds a player back isn’t their actual abilities but their mentality.”

“Mr. Kent,” Bruce paused as though he were mulling over his next words. “You’re impairment, as you would call it, is exactly the reason you were assigned to me.”

“Really?” Jon blinked as he finally made eye contact with the man.

“Yes,” Bruce nodded while continuing on with his explanation. “Because the thing I excel at is my technical abilities. My best skill is my precise technique, but this is not something I have acquired due to any special gifts or talents. I just merely practice hard and put in three times the effort than any other player does so when I perform a piece, I can play it to perfection.”

Bruce’s hand slightly twitched and his eyes dimmed as though he were remembering something. 

“I practice it so much, that I hear the music in my head, and my fingers move on their own through muscle memory alone. The music itself becomes an extension of my hands, but I didn’t get this way because I spent hours upon hours wasting time listening to myself and toiling over my mistakes or whether I was improving or not.”

“So, Mr. Kent,” Bruce spoke evenly while looking back towards the boy. “I will make sure you practice hard, so that you will also hear the music here” he lifted up his hand for display before tapping his ear. “Rather than here, and it all will become second nature to you. Then you will no longer be concerned with whether you can hear yourself or not.”

Bruce half smirked.

“And I believe in actuality, your _impairment_ will help you excel much faster at this kind of technique than any other student I’ve ever taught because your focus won’t be so torn between what you can and cannot hear. You will just overflow with the confidence that you know the song inside and out because you worked hard memorizing and becoming one with the piece.”

“Maestro…” Jon murmured his eyes glossing with pure admiration. 

Bruce pretended not to notice and stood back up so he could step away from the boy.

“And if you ever start to wonder if you are playing poorly or making a mistake, don’t. Just trust that I will be quick to let you know when you are. If you can do at least that much, then I promise you will improve beyond anything you can imagine. Do you understand?”

Bruce frowned at Jon, but what he saw in return was the last thing he expected. Two bright blue sapphires shined up at Bruce so radiantly and full of reverence Bruce nearly felt blinded.

“Yes Maestro! Thank you Maestro!” Jon exalted. 

Bruce felt his face go hot and quickly turned his back to the child.

“What are you thanking me for? This is my job. And I wouldn’t get so happy just yet. I have yet to teach a student who I haven’t made cry.”

He looked back over his shoulder, but Jon was still grinning at him. 

He narrowed his eyes. “You will be working hard for the next three years of study under me. Also, now that you know what I expect of you, don’t think you can ever again use your handicap as an excuse with me! Got it?!”

Jon shook his head vigorously. “Yes Maestro!”

Bruce sighed with defeat.

*****************************************************

Clark poked his head around the corner and whispered lowly to himself. “I know I didn’t tell Jon I would be visiting him today, but since I happened to be nearby…” 

He grimaced.

“Also, I can’t shake the bad feeling I have about this Maestro Wayne.”

In actuality, Clark had just come to talk to the resident advisor and drop off a few things for Jon, but after his meeting was complete, he decided he would venture the halls in hopes he would find his son.

_‘But maybe I am being a little overprotective?’_

Clark shook his head.

_‘No, I’m not being unreasonable at all. This is because I LOVE my son! This is what dads do!’_

“No, no, Mr. Kent. All wrong,” a voice rumbled from down the hall. “Try it again, starting from the tenth measure, and this time do it right!”

“Mr. Kent?” Clark mumbled as he turned in the direction where he heard the shouts. “He must be speaking with Jon!”

Clark rushed towards the classroom and stopped just shy of the entrance. When he saw the man standing over the piano instructing his son, he felt his heart drop. Unfortunately for him, that bad premonition wasn’t just paranoia. Just as he feared, the maestro was the last person he wanted his son to have anything to do with. 

Bruce waved his hand in a conductive motion, but after a few versus, the gesture became frantic, until eventually he was tapping his wand against the piano rack in an effort to get Jon to follow his timing.

“Mr. Kent! What did I just say?!” Bruce snapped before he swatted the boy on the hand with his baton.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Clark erupted as he stormed into the room. “Did you just hit my son?!”

“Dad?!” Jon blurted when he saw the man suddenly appear.

Bruce didn’t even look the least bit worried and smirked back at the fuming man.

“Oh, well, if it isn’t Mr. _Quitter_.”

“It’s Mr. Kent!” Clark barked back.

Bruce’s smile deepened. “No, my pupil here is the one I address as Mr. Kent, I think Mr. Quitter suits you much better.”

“Why you arrogant-” Clark started as he gaited towards Bruce but was then suddenly cut off by his son.

“Dad, what are you doing here?”

Clark looked down at the boy and immediately noticed Jon’s frustrated frown.

“Jon. I just came to check in on you,” Clark attempted to explain.

“While I’m in the middle of practice?” the boy asked with a more incredulous tone.

“Well, yeah…” Clark defended his nerve and anger slightly faltering under Jon’s glare.

“Why?”

“Because, I just wanted to know how you were doing.”

Jon furrowed his brow. “I already told you several times before, I’m doing fine. Did you not believe me?”

Clark shook his head frantically. “No, it wasn’t anything like that, I just-” his words got lost as his eyes suddenly caught sight of something horrifying. “Jon, your hands are covered with welts!”

The boy flinched and quickly threw them behind his back. “This is nothing.”

Clark glowered death in Bruce’s direction. “You did this.”

Bruce’s smile had finally dropped, but his expression had turned to something a bit more annoyed.

“Mr. Kent’s father, would you like to speak with me privately. My student here has more important things to do with his time than listen to the ramblings of an overbearing parent.”

“What did you say?” Clark snarled while raising a balled fist.

Bruce just shrugged off Clark’s fury and started to calmly speak to Jon. “Mr. Kent, continue to practice the rest of this page repeatedly till I get back, and make sure you start at the tenth measure. I will have a word with your father in my office for a moment.” 

As soon as the door was shut, Bruce began to speak. “Mr. Kent’s father,” he snapped. “I didn’t want to continue to speak ill of you in front of your son, but I just wanted to let you know you are by far one of the most insufferable, disrespectful, ill-mannered, self-entitled people I ever had the displeasure of meeting.” 

Clark’s eyes flared with disbelief. “ _ME!?_ Are you kidding me?”

Bruce crossed his arms. “Do you see me laughing?”

“Oh man,” Clark chuckled wryly while raking his fingers through his hair. “I can’t believe you at all. I can’t believe how warped you are in the head.”

“How dare you!” Bruce growled furiously. “Once again, you barge into the middle of one of my sessions, uninvited and unannounced and with the audacity to dictate to me how I should be instructing my students! What right do you have-”

“What right do I have?!” Clark thundered as he instantly cut Bruce off. “I’m his damn father, that’s what right I have!”

His feet move towards the maestro until he was standing over the man, making it quite obvious to them both just how many inches Clark had over Bruce.

“I didn’t bring my son to this school so he could be bullied by his own teacher. He gets enough of that crap from kids his own age! The last thing he needs is some self-entitled arrogant instructor with a god complex kicking him around!”

Despite Clark’s intimidating stance, Bruce didn’t back down, however his voice did lower down to a strained even volume.

“If you don’t agree with my method of instruction, then I suggest you have your son dismissed from my training because I do not intend to change my methods just because some _has been_ , know it all, pretentious, _asshole_ demands me to.”

“What did you call me?” 

A wicked smile played its way onto Bruce’s lips. “Oh, I think you heard me perfectly clear Mr. Quitter, or are you deafer than your son?”

“That’s it!” Clark felt something inside of him snap. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this alive with emotion, unfortunately it was the kind of reaction that drove him to move without thinking.

Before he even had time to realize what he was doing, Clark already had his fist flying towards Bruce’s face.

“I have had just about enough of-” Clark started before he suddenly felt his body go weightless. “you?”

For a moment he blinked up at the ceiling, his back slammed down hard against the floor while Bruce stood over him with a superior smirk and Clark’s wrist and hand twisted in his fingers.

“Surprised?” Bruce sneered. “You think you’re the first angry parent or frustrated student to take a swing at me?”

Clark tightened his gaze, and growled lowly.

“What?” Bruce balked as he felt Clark expertly wrench his arm free and then pull Bruce by his own wrist and shoulder towards him.

By the time Bruce processed what had happened, Clark had Bruce’s arm wrapped firmly behind his back while he used the weight of his body to pin the man’s face to the ground.

“Confused?” Clark laughed as he readjusted his frames. “I know my glasses are misleading, but I didn’t wear them back when I started for the varsity wrestling team at KU. It’s what paid for my college, Mr. Wayne.”

“Well, I admit,” Bruce chuckled curtly. “It was a bit unexpected, but-”

Clark’s eyes widened as he felt Bruce’s foot slip between his legs and kick them apart. This caused Clark to lose his balance which inadvertently made him release Bruce’s arm. 

The moment Bruce felt himself go free he pounced on the disoriented man and threw Clark back onto the floor. He then straddled Clark while using both his knees to hold his arms in place and grinned proudly.

“I trained in the art of Judo and Shuai Jiao. You think I would so easily fall to the skills of country bumpkin?”

Clark wrapped his legs around Bruce’s waist. “That’s exactly what I thought!”

With all the strength in his hips and thighs, Clark heaved Bruce off of his body, but not without a substantial bit of resistance from the smaller man. For a moment, they rolled around on the floor, each struggling to dominate the other, but in the end, Clark was able to use his superior size and weight to his advantage.

The position they were end was beyond awkward. Considering his flexibility, Clark had been forced to intertwine his left leg with Bruce’s own, while forcing his right knee between Bruce’s thighs so he could keep his legs spread apart. 

In retaliation, Bruce had his right leg wrapped around Clark’s torso, pulling him into his body so the man barely had any range of motion above his waist. The only thing Clark could really do was keep Bruce’s right wrist pinned to the ground, while the other arm remained locked under Bruce’s chin.

Their faces were only millimeters apart, their heavy breaths intermixing and invading each other’s space.

The faint scent of spicy sandalwood and something earthy tickled Clark’s nose as he inadvertently took in a hard breath of Bruce’s cologne.

Electric blue eye’s razed up at Clark, Bruce’s normally stern narrow gaze now wide and pooling with azure intrigue. 

Clark could feel the other man’s heart beating rapidly against his own chest, and rather than his usual scowl, Bruce was smirking back at Clark in an almost sinful way.

Bruce let out a deep exaltation. 

“I hate to say I’m impressed, but I will at least say you are not exactly what I expected,” he leaned and whispered in Clark’s ear. “ _Mr. Quitter_ …”

Clark couldn’t even try to hold back his shiver, cursing himself for his own reaction. He opened his mouth to speak, but before any words could be said, the office door flew open.

“Maestro! Dad!” the boy gasped with plain and clear mortification. “What are you two-”

All sense of reason returned, and Clark was quickly snapped to his feet and grabbed his son’s hand.

“Come on Jon, we’re leaving!” 

“B-but-” the boy stammered while looking over his shoulder helplessly towards Bruce and his mangled office.

“No buts,” Clark barked as he dragged Jon out the room. “I am going to speak with Chancellor Grange and see about getting you assigned to a different instructor!”

Bruce dusted off his pants and started to fix his tie before storming into the adjacent music room and slamming the door behind Clark and Jon. 

“I can’t believe that man!” Bruce shouted out furiously. He then began to mindlessly storm about the area, until he eventually sat down at the piano bench and slammed the fall shut.

Bruce glared at Jon’s practice book and shook his head.

“Such a shame that things had to end this way. Mr. Kent really was quite a remarkable student with so much potential, but if his overprotective father was going to continue to get in the way…”

He started to haphazardly sift the folders and music, his hands shaking so badly, half the papers fell to the ground.

“Well, it’s not my problem anymore!” Bruce huffed as he started pick up the fallen worksheets.

“Hm?” His hand froze over the last few papers. “What’s this?”

**********************************************

“Dad, what are you doing?” Jon whimpered as he struggled to keep up with the man’s pace.

Clark’s grip around his wrist tightened.

“Dad?” Jon questioned while he tried to drag his feet. 

Clark still didn’t reply.

“DAD LET GO!” Jon finally shouted as he wrenched his hand free.

“Jon?” Clark asked with a shocked expression.

Jon’s eye’s immediately fell to the ground, but all his muscles tightened and his hands formed two fists. “Why? Why did you do that? How could you do such a thing?”

Clark’s anger died down when he saw the trembling boy.

“Jon, I only wanted to help you. That’s why we are going to speak with Chancellor Grange, and see about getting you a new _better_ instructor.”

Jon instantly whipped his face forward and exploded. “I don’t want another instructor! There isn’t anyone better than Maestro Wayne!”

“Jon…” 

“Maestro Wayne understands me. He doesn’t treat me any differently than his other students! He doesn’t just see me as some cripple. He accepts me for who I am!”

For a moment, Clark was speechless. Never before had Jon raised his voice to him like this, and never before had he seen such a furious look I the boy’s eyes.

“Jon, I accept you for who you are?”

“Really? Then why are you always smothering me and treating me so carefully like some kind of helpless baby?”

“Why?” Clark felt his heart crumble. “Because you’re my son.”

The boy’s breath hitched, and once again he was lowering his gaze.

“Well, if this is how you are going to treat your son,” his voice cracked, and he had to pause to recollect himself.

“Then maybe…” now he was shaking. “Maybe I don’t want to be anymore!” Jon cried out before bursting into tears and taking off down the hall.

“Jon! Wait!”

****************************************************

“This is no good,” Clark sighed while rubbing the back of his neck. After losing sight of his son, Clark eventually gave up his pursuit. He knew the best thing right now would be for them both to take some time to calm down.

“Jon has never lashed out at me like that before,” Clark mumbled to himself. “Maybe…maybe I did go too far…”

He stared at the ground in silent thought before suddenly letting out a guilty sound.

“I can’t believe I lost my temper like that!”

Clark chuckled loosely as he reflected on his behavior. It wasn’t often the man lost his cool, but there was just something about that maestro that had him completely on edge.

_‘I don’t understand why Jon is so enamored with that jerk, but if he’s really this intent on training with him, even to the point of yelling at me like that then maybe…’_

Clark slumped his shoulders and heaved out. “Damn, am I really going to have to apologize to that ass?”

He turned around and started to make his way back towards the classroom all while chanting under his breath. “Just do it for Jon…”

He didn’t get far before he heard the wistful sound of a piano fill the hall.

Clark felt his chest swell as he immediately recognized what he was hearing. 

“This song?” he gasped as he raced towards the music at full speed. “It can’t be!”

The sound reverberated against his ears and sent tremors down his body. “This song, this is…”

He stopped in the doorway his breath hitching as he took in the image of a raven-haired beauty with deep blue eyes playing at the piano.

One stray tear trickled down the man’s cheek as he whispered out. “Lois…”

To Be Continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes Bruce was fully aware that Jon was Clark’s son. Still, he is too professional to care despite the fact that Bruce doesn’t really like Clark at all. There is a method to his madness and a reason Bruce is a little extra jerkish to Clark. Clark, however, dislikes Bruce for very obvious reasons, lol.
> 
> I hope this chapter brought a little bit more insight as to what this story is about. I know the first one was a bit introductory and my summary of the fic wasn’t all that informative either. I just didn’t want to give too much of the story away. As I get further intp revealing the character’s past, things will start to make more sense as far as why Clark and Bruce are the way that they are. Clark’s story is a bit more obvious right now, and is kind of the main plot point, but later I will get into Bruce’s situation, and hopefully throw plenty of developing romance along the way.
> 
> Jon is just too cute for his own good. I will have fun making him win over the broody batfamily. They can’t resist the Kent charm, but who really can?
> 
> Okay, well I hope everyone is still enjoying this story, it will have a lot of sad themes mixed in it, but I promise by the end it will all pan out to a sweet little love story, so please enjoy the roller coaster for now, and thank you so much for all the support!


	3. Chapter 3

_‘Lois…’_

He blinked up at the pair of azure eyes looking down on him. Lips pierced tightly together into the form of disapproval, the woman began to complain. “Clark, how many times have I told you that you shouldn’t fall asleep in this clammy old office?” worry furrowed her brow. “You’ll catch a cold.”

Groggily he sighed, a lopsided grin edging his mouth as he slightly stretched from his reclined position on the futon.

“I couldn’t help it,” he yawned. “I heard you playing that lullaby, and before I knew it, I was drifting off to sleep.”

“Oh, so we’re just going to pin this one on me, huh?”

He could tell she was trying to maintain her stern expression, but the smile steadily creeping across her face did nothing for effect.

He took hold of the wrist planted firmly at her hip and tugged her closer towards him. “Hey, I can’t help it if the lady has magic fingers.”

She let out a small laugh as he tickled her with the light kiss placed against her wedding ring.

“Compliments will get you everywhere, _Mr. Kent_.”

“Hmm, I guess I will have to remember that next time I need to, _Mrs. Kent_ ,” Clark hummed suggestively before suddenly pulling the woman into his lap.

She let out a small squeal. “Clark!”

He hugged her to his body and rested an ear against her swelled up tummy.

“I take it the lullaby wasn’t meant for me though,” he placed a gentle hand to her stomach and his voice went sweet. “You sure are a lucky little guy, getting a front row seat to Lois’s performance. You know how many people would kill to get tickets to one of her shows?”

Lois began to pet Clark’s head. “Yes, but there will always be a special seat left open for you,” she flicked Clark’s forehead. “And your hopeless father.”

Clark chuckled and closed his eyes before snuggling closer to her belly.

For a moment, they stayed in their intimate position just enjoying each other’s presence, Clark’s steadily rising and falling body signs of his peaceful dozing.

“Clark, if you’re tired, you really should just rest.”

He could hear the concern in her voice and countered it with a reassuring smile.

“Oh, I’ll be fine. I think that nap was just what I needed. I really want to finish up these last few pieces before their deadlines. Then we should have plenty of room in our accounts to take care of this little one.” He placed a soft kiss on her stomach. “I don’t want either of you to have to worry or struggle. I promise to take care of you both…”

“Lois…” the name unconsciously slipped from his lips.

The music filling the hall had taken him back to another time and place, his body reeling as he slipped back to the reality he wasn’t ready to face.

_‘This song, this is the one I wrote for Lois, but it isn’t her playing it…’_

He clutched the edge of the doorway in an attempt to steady the shallow tremble each note jolted up his spine. His heart aching with a longing he’d tried so many years to bury away.

_‘So then why? Why is every fiber of my body telling me that she is?’_

His vision started to blur.

“What an abrupt ending…” the tone of words was about as rough as the statement.

Clark blinked, a stray bit of liquid catching his lashes and narrowly missing the path down his cheek.

For a moment, he didn’t reply, his mind still too hazy to process what had been said. It wasn’t until Bruce shut the piano fall that the hard sound finally woke him up.

“The song wasn’t finished.”

Bruce stood up from the bench. “I can tell.”

He turned around and the somewhat celestial glow veiling the man instantly disappeared.

“Mr. Kent’s father…” Bruce was frowning. “I am starting to get the impression that you make a habit of ease dropping on people’s performances.”

Clark ignored Bruce’s words, not really in the mood to be baited into another argument. 

“Where did you find this song?”

Bruce shuffled up the papers on the piano stand. “I believe Mr. Kent left it behind along with a few other things,” he handed the stack to Clark. “Here.”

Hesitantly Clark took them, afraid that Bruce would notice his still shaking hands.

Bruce’s sharp eyes were still fixed with Clark’s own causing Clark to lose his nerve and lower his head. Bruce had such a daunting and penetrative gaze. 

“Mr. Wayne…” Clark mumbled out lowly. “I wanted to apologize to you.”

“Really now?” 

Clark could just hear the smirk in Bruce’s voice and was glad he couldn’t see it.

“Yes, as much as it pains me to say it,” Clark added, already feeling his irritation returning. The effects of Bruce’s moving performance almost made Clark forget what an ass the man actually was.

“Interesting way to say you are sorry.”

“Well, honestly, I wish I wasn’t,” Clark grumbled back. “But I am…”

Bruce shrugged.

Clark closed his eyes and started to ramble off his apology. Though he meant every word he spoke, his sincerity had been lost to Bruce’s haughty expression. 

“I shouldn’t have blown up on you the way that I did, and I definitely shouldn’t have attacked you.

You were right. I don’t have any business telling you how to instruct your students, and for whatever reason, my son seems to think you’re one of the best.”

He peeked at Bruce with a gaze that was more entreating than questioning. “Though, is it really all that necessary to be hitting your students like that?”

Bruce’s tightly pierced lips loosened into a strange shape. “For someone who says he doesn’t want to question me, you sure ask a lot.” '

He let out a resigned sigh. 

“Mr. Kent’s father, I only do this because I realize your son can’t always hear me when I correct him. It seemed like the most effective way to get his attention without interrupting the flow of his playing. 

If I were to shout at him in a way that he could hear me, he would more than likely turn around and in doing so he would remove his hands from the piano and not realize where he messed up, but I want him to see at exactly what point his mistake occurred.

I know my methods are a bit harsh…” the wrinkles over Bruce’s forehead rumpled and the man looked genuinely stuck in his thoughts. “Mmm, perhaps though I could rethink a better way of getting his attention, but to be quite honest, I had an instructor who did the same to me, so I didn’t think much of it, and Jon never complained, but I can see why his father might get upset.”

A thoughtful hand rested against his chin. “It is a shame to tarnish such perfect piano playing hands though…”

Clark wasn’t sure how to respond, but part of him felt like this was the best he would ever get at reaching some kind of compromise with the man.

“So I take it you’ve reconsidered the withdrawal of your son from my instruction?”

“I…well,” Clark seemed a bit torn, but eventually sighed out his own reconciliation. “It’s not really up to me. Jon told me he doesn’t want to work with any other instructor. That it _has_ to be you.”

“I see…” Bruce trailed with an unreadable expression. 

“Mr. Wayne, I only want what’s best for my son, but even I can admit I don’t always know what is. That’s why I enrolled him into this school, so people like you can help him in places that I can’t. So please Mr. Wayne,” Clark reached out a hand and smiled warmly. “Continue to take care of my son.”

Bruce's eyes grazed over Clark’s gesture but rather than accept it, he just frowned.

“Well, that I most definitely will do. After all, it is my job, but if you think I will just accept your apology so easily, then you are quite mistaken.”

“What?” 

Bruce’s brow creased and his voice hardened. “The insult I suffered from you isn’t something that can be taken away with pretty words. 

Perhaps one day you will just have to do something better to make it up to me, but for now I have other students to attend to so I don’t have any more time to waste with you.”

The stack of folders and music was suddenly shoved into Clark’s outstretched hand.

“Just give this to your son, and let him know I expect him to play it perfectly for me when I see him again in two days.”

“This guy…I really don’t like him at all…”Clark grumbled lowly. He wasn’t sure when, but at some point Bruce had shoved him outside of the door, and then very noticeably slammed it in his face. 

“Then again, if Jon likes him so much…and the way he played Lois’s song…” Clark clutched the front of his shirt tightly in an attempt to steady the trembling in his chest. The residual effects of Bruce’s performance still hadn’t completely left the man’s heart. “

_‘There’s no way he can be all bad…right?’_

*********************************************************

Clark’s mind never completely recovered from the events of that day. Never before had he ever written a piece for someone that was so perfectly played by another individual. Sure his music could be picked up by any other performer, but the feelings his music typically conveyed was usually only interpreted and expressed properly by the person he wrote it for.

So how was it, a man like Maestro Wayne, someone so cold and harsh who’d never even met Lois, was able to perform that piece in such a way, Clark actually mistook the man for his late wife?

“Mr. Kent’s father.”

Clark nearly jumped three feet in the air when he heard the voice.

Right as he’d gotten a few steps from entering, Clark lost his nerve and ended up just poking his head in Bruce’s classroom. While he was searching for the maestro, Bruce appeared behind the man.

“Would you stop calling me that?!” Clark snapped as he tried to hide his flustered state.

Bruce’s lips curled. “Mr. Quitter?”

“Not better,” Clark frowned.

Bruce shrugged his indifference.

“Look,” Clark sighed out. “Just call me Clark. Clark is fine.”

Something questionable briefly took Bruce’s eyes but was soon replaced with his typically firm expression. “Alright then, _Clark_ , but don’t think you can address me so informally as well. I go by Mr. Wayne or Maestro, preferably.”

“Alright, _Mr. Wayne_ ,” Clark gritted on the inflection.

Bruce brushed past Clark and entered the empty classroom. “So, what brings you here today?”

“I came to pick up Jon for an appointment.”

“Mr. Kent is not here,” Bruce replied frankly. 

“Yeah, I know he isn’t. He actually has a class right now. I showed up early.”

Bruce finally turned towards Clark, a look of irritation edging his face. “And so you thought I had the time to waste to help fill your boredom?”

Clark smiled back weakly. It was taking every bit of his composure to remain civil. “No, I actually meant to come by and see you, that is, if you weren’t too busy.”

Bruce’s scowl dropped to something Clark had never seen the man express before. “You did?”

Clark nodded and his smile widened. For whatever reason, what he just said had taken Bruce off guard, and Clark had to admit the man looked much more attractive when he wasn’t frowning all the time. 

“Yeah, I realized during our little… _encounter_ , I broke one of your metronomes,” Clark held up a bag. “So I wanted to replace it.”

Bruce didn’t even look at the sack and continued to eye Clark pensively. “It wasn’t so much mine as much as it was the schools.”

Once again, Clark felt a sense of nervousness as he got caught under Bruce’s penetrative gaze. Why did the man always have to stare so hard, and why did Clark always feel so small and abdicated when he did.

“Yeah, but I still broke it, so regardless of who it belonged to, here,” he lifted the bag higher.

“The school would have replaced it.”

“Geez, why do you always have to be so defensive over everything I say?” Clark snapped as he forced the bag into Bruce’s hands.

“I’m not defensive,” Bruce smirked. “You’re just sensitive.”

“People tend to be when you’re always kicking them around,” Clark griped while closing his eyes and rubbing the back of his neck. “Why not give my esteem time to recover before knocking it around again?”

Bruce’s sneer softened, and Clark would have sworn he heard a light chuckle from the man.

“Clark, when do you need to pick up Mr. Kent?”

“About an hour from now.”

“Good,” Bruce hummed while nodding his head, a decided expression now taking his face. “That gives us plenty of time then.”

“Plenty of time for what?”

Once again, Bruce was pushing past Clark, the man still caught in the middle of the doorway. 

Bruce looked back over his shoulder, and gave Clark a knowing look. 

“For you to make up for your behavior the other day and give me a proper apology,” he replied before walking down the hall.

Clark mindlessly followed behind him. “What do you have in mind?”

“I want you to take me to lunch.”

“Umm, okay…” Clark mumbled, his confusion and reluctance all obvious from his tone.

“Don’t worry, I know an unemployed _quitter_ such as yourself can’t afford much so we will just be eating at the campus cafeteria.”

“There you go again,” Clark grumbled back sourly. “Always aiming for my sore spots.”

Now there was no denying that the man was actually chuckling as Bruce’s body began to lightly shake.

“Only because you leave yourself wide open.”

**************************************************

“You know, I’m not unemployed,” was the first thing Clark grumbled when the pair finally sat down in the partially empty cafeteria.

Never mind the fact that Bruce ordered for both of them, not even bothering to ask or care what Clark actually wanted, but making sure that he paid. Instead, he decided to ignore that insult and address the first one.

Bruce was in the process of spooning through his drink, when Clark voiced his complaint.

“Pardon?

Clark let out a frustrated sound before repeating himself. “I said I’m not unemployed. I have a job. I can do other things besides write music.”

“Oh, you’re still going on about that?” Bruce shrugged before sipping his coffee.

“I’m a transcriber now. Sure it doesn’t pay as well as composing, but it’s still good stable work.”

Bruce raised a brow his smirk slightly covered by his cup. “I see, so you no longer write your own music. Instead you just transcribe what others have already written.”

“Is that another jab at me?”

Bruce let out an bemused sound. “Clark, you really are rather sensitive.”

Clark started to object, but Bruce was too quick to cut him off.

“In any case, I don’t want to talk while I have food in my mouth, so if you don’t mind saving your whining until after I’ve completed my meal,” he gave Clark an admonishing look. “I also suggest you eat too before your food gets cold. It’s not good to be wasteful.”

The vein on Clark’s forehead throbbed. He didn’t much appreciate Bruce’s condescending attitude. Did he always make a habit of talking down to everyone like they were one of his students? About ten biting comebacks came to the writer’s mind, but instead of saying anything, Clark held his tongue. Maybe if he didn’t reply, this meal would end faster, and he could leave sooner. 

Clark ate his food at record speed, and then spent the remainder of the time staring down at the coffee he never intended to drink that Bruce ordered.

“Clark, I will admit I haven’t been entirely forthright with you,” Bruce finally replied as he folded his napkin over his empty plate. “I didn’t ask you to come eat lunch with me because I cared to have you repay me for your offense. I forgot about that whole ordeal weeks ago. I mean, you would have to be seriously petty to continue to dwell on something that trivial.”

“Unbelievable…” Clark started to curse under before catching himself. “Okay, so then why did you ask me out here?”

Bruce’s face went flat. “Because I wanted to speak with you about matters concerning young Mr. Kent.”

Clark’s brow furrowed. “Then why didn’t you just ask?”

Bruce slightly turned his eyes away, and Clark almost could have sworn Bruce looked reticent.

“Well, I got the impression you didn’t like me very much, so I thought if I spoke with you in a more social environment it would perhaps lighten the air between us.”

Clark’s earlier irritation completely diminished and his voice softened. “Mr. Wayne, regardless of whether I like you or not, if you ever need to talk to me about anything concerning Jon, I will always be willing and available to hear it.”

“I see…” Bruce trailed with a thoughtful hum.” Well, I will keep that in mind should this kind of situation ever arise again.”

He brought a hand to his chin, and Clark felt the corner of his mouth slightly turn up a tinge. He barely knew the man, and yet he was already starting to pick up on a few of the small nuances the man exhibited. This was definitely a sign that the maestro was seriously debating something in his head.

“Okay Clark, then let me ask you, what exactly is Jon’s condition? I know he is hearing impaired, but he is not completely deaf either. However, during our lessons there have been several times he has missed an instruction of mine, and he often complains about being unable to hear himself play very well.”

“Well, it depends on which ear you are speaking into. You see, Jon is completely deaf in his left ear.”

“Really, and it has always been this way for him?”

Clark's face dimmed. “Unfortunately, yes. You see, Jon was born prematurely, and one of the side effects was that he was born deaf in one ear.

As for his right one…it suffers from Sudden Sensorineural Hearing Loss. Due to this condition he is required to wear a cochlear implant, however, it’s not as though he has 100% functionality in that ear, and…”

“And what?” Bruce asked as he realized Clark’s demeanor had completely fallen with his voice.

“Well…” Clark clenched the end of his seat. “There are cases where despite the implant the person will still eventually lose all sense of hearing.”

“Is Jon one of those cases?”

“I don’t know…” Clark sighed grimly.

Once again, Bruce’s eyes went hazy making it obvious he was mulling something over.

“I wonder though,” Clark started before blinking up at the man questionably. “Why are you asking me all of this? Jon didn’t want to tell you?”

Bruce crossed his arms over his chest and let out a restless exhalation. “I didn’t bother to ask him. When it comes to musical instruction, I don’t hold back, but personal matters to this level of sensitivity, well, even someone such as me knows that some degree of discretion should be exercised. 

I’m still not completely certain how reconciled Jon is with his disability. He is a very bright child, both in mind and in character, but at the same time, people like him tend to be the hardiest for someone like me to read.”

“Wow,” Clark gasped with honest disbelief.

“What?”

“You’re actually a lot more thoughtful than I first imagined,” Clark chuckled playfully.

Bruce didn’t even crack a smile and replied frankly. “I’m not surprised you feel that way about me, considering you are about as _thoughtless_ as I first perceived.”

“Well, this lunch is over,” Clark grimaced as he stood to his feet. “Mr. Wayne, was that all you needed to ask me?”

“Well, concerning Jon, yes, but if it’s not too bold of me to ask, there is a question I have pondered for quite some time that I wanted to ask you.”

Clark looked down at Bruce expectantly.

“Regarding your career…why did you decide to quit composing?”

Clark scowled deeply at Bruce. “It _was_ too bold of you to ask.” 

He walked away and muttered, “good bye, Mr. Wayne.”

******************************************************  
Jon plopped face first onto his bed and let out a heavy sigh.

“Man, I’m so beat…”

He rolled over onto his back and held his fingers high above his face. It wasn’t till he tried stretching them that he felt a jolt of pain and winced. 

_‘I didn’t do so well today… Maestro Wayne made me practice an hour longer after I kept messing up, and then I had concert practice right after…’_

He groaned and buried his face in his pillow. For a moment, he started to doze off before the sound of jingling keys suddenly woke him.

_‘Oh? The door is unlocking? Who could it be?’_

Jon sat up.

_‘Maybe it’s my roommate?’_

Slowly the door opened and Jon felt his breath hitch as two piercing blue orbs caught his own azure gaze. 

Though the tight creases around his lips and eyes were slightly distorting his appearance, Jon couldn’t help but be captivated by the other boy’s poised aura and perfectly defined features.  
Cool sapphire eyes, neatly parted raven hair that was still so energetic in style it resembled black fire, and light skin with just the perfect tint of olive in it.

Jon couldn’t imagine the boy to be many more years older than him, but his presence alone felt more daunting than most adults Jon had encountered.

“What are you doing here?” the older boy scowled, his voice as imposing as his appearance. 

Jon’s heart skipped, but his mouth refused to move.

The darker boy leaned in closer. “What’s wrong with you? Are you deaf? I just asked who the hell you are, and for that matter, why are you in _my_ room?” 

To Be Continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Damian makes his appearance! Jon has just inherited a pretty difficult new acquaintance. Let’s see if the two boys can get along with each other ;)
> 
> Well, this chapter certainly was uneventful compared to the last one, but I hope a lot of important information got relayed to everyone for the future. Also, for those who’ve read my other stories, I generally do a slow build when it comes to developing character relations. I guess maybe because it personally takes me awhile before I really come to know and trust a person, especially someone I don’t know very well. Also, I'm not really the “love at first sight” kind of person. Sure I get attracted to people all the time, but usually that just really isn’t ever enough for me. So I really want them to build a friendship before they jump straight into romance... Also, I really feel like Bruce is the kind of person who is very apprehensive about jumping into relationships, and also the Clark in this story is still very much a heartbroken widower. 
> 
> Oh well, they will figure it out eventually! I may not believe in love at first sight, but I am still a hopeless romantic who believes in finding true love. Clark and Bruce are definitely soulmates, and I will bring them together no matter what world they are written into, haha.
> 
> Alright, well hope everyone is still enjoying this fic. I have plenty of drama and sweet moments waiting! Thanks and see you next chapter!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With the way Rebirth is doing things, I get the impression Jon is actually younger than Damian by a few years. I think Jon is like 10 or 11 and Damian is 13 (I might be wrong, that’s just the impression I got, lol). In any case, I think in this fic, I want them to be about around those ages too.

“Who the hell are you?”

Jon was still lost in stunned silence. It wasn’t until he heard an impatient intake of air from the scowling boy that he finally regained his voice.

“Hi, my name is Jonathan Lane Kent,” Jon blurted while outstretching his hand. “I’m your new roommate. It’s a pleasure to meet-”

Before Jon could even finish introducing himself, the boy spun around and kicked the door open.

“Oh, this must be some kind of a mistake!” He growled out.

“Umm…” Jon mumbled as he watched the fuming boy storm down the hall.

“Director Bullock!”

“Damian…” the man all but groaned when the boy came bursting into his office unannounced.

“What is the meaning of this? Why is there a little kid in my room? I’m not supposed to have any roommates. My dorm is private!”

The older man frowned at the finger Damian was pointing at him before sighing back. “No, it’s not private, you just happened to be able to have a room to yourself all this time.”

“Yes, that was the agreement when I first moved in,” Damian protested.

“Well, due to the renovations they are doing in Penny Hall, we didn’t have any other rooms available but yours.”

“Preposterous!” The boy snapped while slamming his hands down on the man’s desk. “Does my father know what’s going on? Who authorized this? I want to have a word with the person responsible!”

Finally the director’s frown lifted to a coy smile. “Well, actually, just as we were about turn down Mr. Kent’s application, you’re father stepped in and told us about your availability. This was all actually his idea, so I guess you would have to talk to him.”

Damian’s glare narrowed and his voice dropped. “Oh believe me, I will.”

***********************************************  
“M-maestro Wayne?!” Jon stammered.

When he heard the tap at his door, the last person he expected to see was his maestro.

“Father!” An enraged voice barked from behind the man. The boy then pushed his way past Bruce and into the room.

“Damian,” Bruce nodded before looking back at Jon. “Mr. Kent, I see you’ve met your new roommate, my son, Damian Al Ghul.”

“You’re the maestro’s son?” Jon exclaimed a little louder then he intended.

Damian’s eyes also widened with realization before he glowered up at Bruce. “Oh, I see now what this is about. This child is one of your students.”

Bruce didn’t seem the least bit phased by Damian’s glare and answered back evenly. “No. What this is about is Mr. Kent needing a room, and yours being the only one available.

“That’s not my problem,” Damian snorted while crossing his arms.

Bruce’s gaze went firm. “Apparently it is. At least until the renovations are complete or another room opens up, but considering our high attendance, I doubt that will happen first. In any case, the arrangements have already been made.”

“But-” Damain started, however Bruce was already turning away.

“Mr. Kent, do you have a problem with this arrangement?”

“N-no,” Jon stammered nervously, the tension in the room so great, he almost couldn’t answer.

Seemingly satisfied with Jon’s reply, Bruce turned back to his son. “Damian, do you?”

The boy’s eyes lit up with fury and disbelief. “Of course I do! This is the whole reason I even called you here!”

Once again Bruce ignored the boy’s rage and replied back indifferently. “Well, seeing as how Mr. Kent doesn’t have a problem, I guess the only one being bothered is you, but if you really don’t like this arrangement, you can always move to the manor.”

“What!” Damian blurted with a bit of panic Jon couldn’t quite place.

“It’s up to you Damian. You can stay here with Mr. Kent, or come home with me.”

Damian’s face went flat, and after a few moments of frustrated contemplation, the boy finally grumbled his reply. “Fine. Since you leave me no choice, I will just deal with _this_ arrangement,” Damian grunted while motioning towards Jon.

“Good,” Bruce smiled wryly. “I’m glad we were able to settle this. Now I must be going. I have a class starting soon.”

Damian slammed the door hard, and Jon almost wasn’t even sure if Bruce had even made it all the way out before Damian did it.

“I can’t believe him!” Damian thundered furiously. “He did this on purpose just to goad me into moving into that insufferable manor with him, but I will not let him have his way!”

Everyone of Jon’s muscles tensed as Damian threw him his iciest glare. “I guess I just have to deal with _you_.”

“What was your name again?” The boy demanded as he started to pick up the belongings he left by the doorway.

“Jonathan Kent,” Jon answered back weakly.

“Okay, Kent,” Damian growled as he stood directly in Jon’s face in such away, the boy couldn’t do anything to avoid his penetrating sapphires. “Let’s just set aside a few rules.

First of all, I get up every morning promptly at 5am. So from 5 to 530 do not even think of using the bathroom because it will be in use. 

After that, I work on my morning drills, if you have a problem with the noise, you can just sleep in the hall.”

“You can practice in here?” Jon’s eyes started to flit about with pure confusion. “How do you manage that? I didn’t see a piano or keyboard-”

“How typical!” Damian snapped as he finally pulled back and released Jon from his leer. “Just because my father is Maestro Wayne, you automatically assume I play the piano.”

A superior smile played it way on his lips. “No, I play something far less restrictive instrument.”

Jon’s gaze dropped on the case leaning by Damian’s bed. “You play the violin!”

“Well, at least you are less stupid than you look,” Damian snorted.

“Rest assure, I am not in the room often. I have more important things to do with my time than spend it here, but when I do return, I have my nightly drills from 9 to 10. I don’t expect you to be making any noise at that time either. Understand?”

“Sure.” Jon nodded.

“Also,” the boy pointed. “This side of the room is mine. Don’t come over here without my permission!”

“Okay.”

“I go to bed promptly at 11pm each night, so no noise after then either.”

“Sounds fair.”

“Also, I expect that you will keep your area tidy. I don’t plan to be distracted by your mess.”

“Fine.”

Damian looked at Jon with obvious irritation by the fact that the boy seemed unmoved by his demands.

“What are you smiling about?”

“Oh, umm,” Jon stumbled as his smile instantly dropped. Admittedly he hadn’t even realized he was doing it. 

“Well, I was just thinking how similar you are to the maestro.”

“What?” Damian growled.

Jon could feel his nerve disappearing but he continued to murmur on. “You both are so structured and frank. I guess you learned that from your dad?”

Damian’s face darkened with his tone. “I didn’t learn anything from that man. He would have had to actually been present during my developing years to influence me.”

Jon blinked. “Huh?”

Though Damian’s mood seemed more enraged than before, Jon could hear the bit of regret in his voice. However, the boy quickly covered it up with another biting remark. 

“Are you going to continue to gawk at me with your mouth open like some kind of a brainless idiot? Do you have something you need to say?”

“Oh, uhh…I guess not…” Jon mumbled as he once again found himself avoiding Damian’s eyes.

“Well then, don’t make a habit of leaving your mouth open for no reason and wasting people's time thinking there is something to be said!” Damian snarled before whipping around and storming towards his bed.

Jon let out a long controlled breath and dropped his shoulders.

_‘I’m not so sure were going to get along very well…’_

***************************************************************

“You ended up rooming with his son?” Clark exclaimed incredulously. 

“Yeah,” Jon sighed. 

“What a coincidence, though I wonder why his son lives on campus? Maybe your maestro lives far away like I do…” Clark mumbled more to himself than to Jon.

“I don’t know, but I wish that he didn’t,” Jon groaned back.

“Oh? Is he really that bad?” Clark chuckled.

Jon let out a disenchanted sigh. “I’m not sure if he and I are going to get along very well. Damian is extremely bossy and the way he talks is so direct he’s just plain rude. He also doesn’t have a lick of patience, and he always looks like he’s upset. I haven’t seen him smile once!”

“Hmm, sounds like someone I met before…” Clark muttered.

“He is nothing at all like the maestro!” Jon objected. “I thought he was at first, but the maestro is just strict because he wants to help his students get better, his son however is just flat out…well, he’s just mean!”

“I’m sorry, Jon,” Clark honestly comforted. “Maybe he’s just shy? A lot of people who are tend to be standoffish and use their attitude as a defense mechanism. Maybe when you get to know each other a little better, he won’t seem so nasty? I’m sure deep down he has some good about him. Most people usually do, you just have to look a little harder with some.”

“Okay, I guess I’ll just try a little harder to get along with him…” Jon grumbled under his breath. “Like really REALLY hard.”

Clark laughed out lightly. “I have faith you will.”

“Oh by the way,” Jon blurted excitedly. “Maestro finally has me working on a contest piece.”

“Really?” Clark questioned back. In the past, Jon never had the confidence to enter any, even though Clark was certain Jon had the skills. He wasn’t sure how Bruce managed to convince him, but it really sounded like his son was happy about it.

“It’s not a major one, but if I place in it, I will qualify for the bigger competitions.”

“That’s great!” Clark smiled through the phone.

“Oh!” Jon suddenly gasped. “I have to get going to class now.” His voice slightly dropped. “I would call you at night instead of between classes, but Damian complains when I talk on the phone.”

“Haha, okay,” Clark chuckled. “Goodluck.”

“Maestro says I shouldn’t rely on luck but on my skill.”

“I meant with his son.”

Jon burst into a fit of laughter. “Oh, I’m going to need more than luck with that! Goodbye dad! I love you!”

“I love you too…” Clark mumbled back before the receiver went dead.

*******************************************************************

Jon raced through the courtyard while looking at his watch. No matter what, he knew he was going to be tardy, but maybe if he was only a few minutes late, it wouldn’t be so bad.

His eyes darted about before he noticed a shortcut between several hedges. However, as he approached the bushes, he heard the quiver of a melodic sound.

Suddenly Jon’s feet stopped racing and started quietly shuffling towards the faint noise as though the boy were lost within a trance.

“Oh, what a sad song…” Jon mumbled as he felt his heart throb. 

No longer did the boy care about being late. The music was too enthralling for him to care. Eventually, Jon stopped walking and closed his eyes so he could get a better feel for the song.

The whine of the violin filled the air around him and made his chest swell till eventually Jon felt warm liquid roll down his cheek.

“Am I…am I actually crying?”

Finally the song ended and the music stopped, and it was at that point Jon felt his breath return.

_‘I wonder who could be playing?’_

Jon snuck a little closer. He then peered over the hedge but what he saw made his eyes enlarge to twice their size.

_‘Damian?!’_

Jon immediately ducked back down, his heart thumping violently as he held his breath and hoped Damian didn’t see him.

Jon was in utter disbelief that this was the same person he just heard performing.

_‘I’ve listened to him practice a dozen times, but he’s **NEVER** played like this!’_

Jon poked his head back over to make sure he hadn’t imagined what he saw, but instead of reconfirming his misconceptions, he just found himself even more shocked. 

Damian had a soft yet sad smile on his face and was kneeling down patting a mound of dirt.

“I can’t do more than this for you, but I hope at least now you can rest in peace,” Damian whispered softly.

When Damian stood back up, Jon jolted back down. He then felt Damain’s footsteps descend in the opposite direction. Jon waited a few more minutes just to be certain Damian was gone before he stood back up and made his way through the hedges.

Jon quirked his head. “Hmm?”

He looked down at the pile of dirt. Several misshapen stones were outlining the small hill, and a few feathers and flowers were carefully placed in the middle.

“Is this a grave?” Jon looked in the direction Damain had disappeared with his mouth hung open in disbelief. “Did he…did he bury a bird and play it a farewell song?”

A small smile formed on Jon’s lips, and he let out a defeated sound.

_‘Maybe dad was right. Maybe I was wrong about him…’_

**************************************************

“OH NO! I can’t be late. Not for this!” Clark wildly exclaimed. He then flew out the airport doors, his eyes immediately locking onto a yellow vehicle halfway down the strip.

“TAXI!” Clark shouted as he raced towards the car.

“Oh thank God!” Clark gasped as he plopped into the back seat. “I need to get to-”

The burly man turned towards Clark before looking at him apologetically “Sorry pal, but I was called to pick someone up already. You’re gonna have to find another cab or call one to come get ya.”

“Seriously?!” Clark exclaimed. “But I don’t have time. I’m already late!”

“Well then, why don’cha ask the guy who called me if he can do ya a favor?” the cab driver suggested.

“Okay, who was it that called you?”

The man’s brow furrowed before he flipped out his phone and thumbed through the screen. “Oh, umm, a Mr. Wayne.”

“What?” Clark blurted before the door adjacent to him swung open and a familiar smirk met his bewildered face.

“Hello, Mr. Kent’s father.”

“Wayne?”

Bruce frowned. “You mean Maestro.”

“Mr. Wayne, I…” Clark cleared his throat and tried to look convincing. “Would you mind letting me take this cab? I’d be willing to pay you for the trouble.”

“There isn’t a price you could pay me that would be worth compromising my punctuality,” Bruce replied frankly. 

“But-”

“Just because you planned poorly doesn’t mean I should be inconvenienced.”

Clark clenched his jaw and glared at his feet.

“However…” Bruce continued. “I did over step a few boundaries the last time we spoke, and I admit even I was ashamed.”

Clark looked back up at Bruce with question.

“I take it you are in such a hurry to make it to Mr. Kent's performance?”

“Yeah…” Clark sighed bleakly.

“Let’s go.”

Clark’s face lit up. “Really?

“I am headed that way myself. I don’t see why we both can’t share this ride.”

A big smile spread across Clark’s face. “Thank you so much! But you have to let me pay. I insist.”

“Suit yourself,” Bruce shrugged before motioning for the driver to leave.

After that, a long silence followed. Clark had been so happy to secure a ride to the theater, he almost forgot that he and Bruce weren’t exactly on the best terms.

Several times Clark thought about sparking up some kind of conversation, but he wasn’t exactly sure how to approach the typically biting man. 

“So you make a point to be present at all your son’s performances?” Bruce asked while effectively breaking their silence.

“Yes, but my flight got in late. You see, I’m still in the process of permanently moving out here.”

“So, you packed up your entire life just to move here so you could be closer to your son?”

Clark shook his head. “Yeah, thankfully my job as a transcriber allows me to work from home, so moving wasn’t all too disruptive.”

“But you left your home behind.”

Clark’s smile warmed. “Jon is my home.”

“Hmm,” Bruce hummed with a contemplative expression.

“What?” Clark asked somewhat defensively as he realized how corny his reply must have sounded.

Bruce let out a resigned sigh. “You may be an aggravating man,” he smiled up at Clark. “But at least you are a good father.”

Clark felt his heart skip. He’d almost forgotten how charming this typically hardened man could look.

“You know, funny thing,” Clark chuckled. “I thought the same thing about you. That your personality is terrible but at least you’re a good instructor.”

“Perhaps your assessment of me is fair,” Bruce smirked back.

“You now, I can’t tell when you’re joking or not,” Clark groaned.

“Good,” Bruce replied with a crooked smile.

Clark couldn’t help but laugh out this time and Bruce’s lips only curled more.

“Mr. Wayne,” Clark breathed out as he finally caught his breath. “I really think you and I got off to a bad start, but if we’re going to be dealing with each other for the next three to four years, I think it would be best if we actually got along.”

“Agreed,” Bruce nodded.

“Alright then,” Clark exclaimed as he patted his knees and then turned towards Bruce with a renewed sense of determination. “Why don’t we try this again?”

He held out his hand. “The name is Clark Kent, it’s a pleasure to meet you maestro.”

Bruce closed his eyes and let out an amused sound.

“So honest, upfront, and direct. I see where Mr. Kent inherited his behavior from.”

Bruce accepted the shake. “Okay Clark…the name is Bruce Wayne.”

“Bruce?” Clark echoed back.

“What?”

Clark’s grin widened. “Well, I actually didn’t know your first name till now, but Bruce really does suit you.”

Bruce quickly retracted his hand and turned his face away.

“Well, to you, I am still Maestro Wayne or Mr. Wayne, so don’t think you can address me so informally.”

“Haha, alright _Maestro_ ,” Clark chuckled as he noticed the faint flush on Bruce’s cheeks.

“Okay, well it looks like we made it here,” Bruce mumbled with his face still looking towards the window.

After that, the two men exited the cab. It wasn’t till after Clark pulled out his wallet and paid the driver that he was suddenly gasped out.

“Oh no!” 

“What?”

Clark looked at Bruce with a pale face. “I forgot the ticket Jon gave me!” He started to stride towards the nearest booth. “I’ll have to buy another one.”

“More than likely they’re already sold out,” Bruce mumbled as he followed behind Clark

“You’re kidding me!” Clark groaned when he saw the sign with huge red print and words he regretted. “I can’t believe this.”

He turned around with his head bowed low but was surprised when he was immediately met with a hand.

“Here.”

“What?” Clark blinked as he tried to focus on the ticket being shoved in his face.

“Take my seat.”

“No, I can’t-”

Bruce let out an impatient sound.

“Clark, don’t worry about me. I know the owner of this theater _very_ well. I will be able to procure myself a seat so it’s just simpler for me to give you my ticket.”

Clark seemed apprehensive but anxious at the same time. “Are you sure?”

Bruce frowned. “Do you think I am the type of person who says things I’m not certain about?”

“Bruce, I don’t know how to thank you!” Clark beamed while moving towards Bruce as though he were about to hug the man but quickly stopped himself.

“You can start by getting to your seat instead of wasting my time,” Bruce snapped as he tried to feign indifference. Though it was a hard thing to do considering how brightly Clark was grinning at him. “Also, don’t address me by my name so informally.”

“Alright, _maestro,_ ” Clark laughed back. He then raced away while waving and shouting. “Thanks!” 

Bruce turned his face away, but watched Clark’s full departure through the corner of his eye.

Eventually though he followed behind the man, but when he made it to the entrance, he was stopped by an attendant. 

“Ticket?”

“I don’t have one,” Bruce shrugged before walking past the man.

The usher cut Bruce off and stood in front of him with his arms crossed. “Well then, I guess you don’t have a seat.”

Bruce let out an aggravated sigh. “You must be new here.”

“Yeah, so what,” the man scoffed.

Bruce looked over the attendant’s shoulder and towards a manager who immediately paled when he made eye contact back. 

“Maestro Wayne!” The older man exclaimed as he hurried his way over. “It’s so good to see you tonight.”

“Fredrick,” Bruce nodded as he handed the man his coat. “I seemed to have misplaced my ticket, but I think I will be taking a box seat instead.”

“Sure thing, Maestro,” the manager frantically nodded before escorting Bruce towards some stairs. “Right this way.”

The usher looked dumbfounded as he watched the scene before turning towards another coworker. “What was that about?”

“Oh man, Lou,” the girl chuckled. “You sure are clueless. Don’t you know who that guy is?”

Lou shook his head. “No? Who the hell is he?”

The woman smiled. “That’s Mr. Wayne. He’s the owner of Martha Hall!”

To Be Continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, I finally got to introduce Damian to the story. I can’t wait for the cute moments between him and Jon. I really think Damian will be easier to crack than Bruce. Maybe he is just more honest, or it could be that Jon is an absolute cutie. Oh my gosh, the only thing cuter than Superman when he gets all excited, is the little smol one (the latest issue, Superman #7 melted my heart).
> 
> I am also happy Bruce and Clark are finally getting along. Now that they are on good terms, I can start making them into friends, and then from there, _really_ good friends ;)
> 
> Also, the mysteries of this story continue to build. Damian and Bruce are pretty estranged, and there is a reason why, and also it is clear Bruce is still a rich bastard, lol, but he tries to hide it. His checkered past will eventually come into play.
> 
> Okay well, I hope everyone is still enjoying this story, and I look forward to sharing the next chapter. I know things are moving slowly, but I promise more sweet, and angst, and fluffed filled moments. Thanks again for reading!
> 
> Oh and for those wondering, the song Damian was playing is one of my all time favorites, Chopin's "Nocturne," though I prefer the piano version, this one was _Nocturne in C sharp minor_ for the violin (which is still gorgeous).
> 
> If you want to hear a good version of it, here's a link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T7k2pmKUXxI


	5. Jardins sous la pluie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize I haven't been giving the chapters any titles, so I will start doing that now, haha. I think I will name them all after famous classical songs. Maybe I'll even go back and title the previous ones...
> 
> This chapter I just picked Debussy Estampes, III. "Jardins sous la pluie," which roughly translates to "Gardens Under the Rain," https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XrlL6pJ4_HA
> 
> Its a really interesting piece that is an interpretation of a windy rain storm in musical personification. It really does remind me of beauty and chaos of a rain storm :)
> 
> Admittedly the songs mood really doesn't represent this chapter very well, but it is one of my favorite songs about rain, and I got stuck on the rain theme, which you see the reason why when you read on, lol.

“Looks like the cat got caught in the rain.”

“I beg your pardon?” Bruce snapped as he scowled at the wide grinning man.

Currently the maestro was stuck under a gazebo waiting for the onslaught of rain to pass, when the taller man came up behind him.

Clark ignored Bruce’s sharp attitude and continued to smile. “You look like you’re trying to get somewhere.”

“Yes,” Bruce exhaled irritably. “I was on my way back to my office when it suddenly started to pour. Unfortunately the music I am carrying has not yet been copied, so I don’t want to risk it getting wet beyond repair.” 

“Well, can I offer you my umbrella?” Clark suggested as he slightly gestured it towards Bruce.

“You can do whatever you please,” Bruce shrugged.

Clark smiled slyly. “I think what you meant to say was,” his voice went mock. “Well thank you Clark for the kind gesture. You are such a thoughtful guy. I don’t know where I would be right now without you.”

“Your head is getting to be about as large as your mouth,” Bruce snorted with an eye roll.

“I was only kidding,” Clark chuckled back before his expression softened.

“Well, to answer your earlier statement, yes, maestro, it would very much please me to offer you some assistance. It’s the least I can do to thank you for the other night.”

Bruce’s frown slightly faded under Clark’s gentle smile. It was hard for the maestro to come up with anything biting when looking at that kind of face. 

Clark watched Bruce gather up his briefcase and a stack of papers he’d been drying off on a nearby table. 

“Hmm,” Clark hummed. “Since your hands seem to be full, let me just walk you back,” he offered while holding the umbrella over Bruce’s head.

Bruce gave Clark a slightly off-put look but didn’t say anything and simply nodded his compliance.

After that, the two men walked side by side so closely, their shoulders were slightly brushing against one other.

An uncomfortable silence immediately followed, and Clark started to realize their situation was just as equally awkward. This made him quickly decide to fill the auditory void.

“You really were a life saver the other night. I don’t know how I can thank you.”

“There is nothing to thank me for,” Bruce sighed with frustration. “As I mentioned, I was able to procure myself another seat without any difficulties, so it was no inconvenience to me.”

“Yeah, well, you still didn’t have to go out of your way like that for me, so I want to thank you just the same.”

“Whatever will make you feel better,” Bruce shrugged. 

“Well, what would make me feel better is if you would just accept my gratitude,” Clark laughed restlessly. 

Bruce caught the hint of annoyance in Clark’s tone and glanced over at the man through the corner of his eye. It was then that he noticed that Clark was tilting the umbrella over so that it was completely covering Bruce causing Clark’s entire right shoulder to get wet.

For some reason, this made Bruce quickly avert his eyes and blurt out the first quip that came to mind. “Fine, Clark, if it will get you to shut up over this matter!” 

Clark started to glare over at the barking man, but when he saw Bruce’s slightly flush face, he couldn’t help but laugh.

“You are such a capricious guy, maestro,” Clark chuckled. “What with the way you are always huffing and puffing, I didn’t realize how incredibly shy you are.”

Bruce turned his pink cheeks away. “Oh, and what would give you that ridiculous impression?”

“Well, the way you react to compliments and words of gratitude,” he smiled over at Bruce. “You know it is okay to just receive them without a fuss.”

“It’s not like that at all!” Bruce bit back with all the fury he could still muster. “I just don’t really see the point in wasting words over unnecessary things.”

Clark’s mouth curled. “Yeah, about not wasting words. You know, it only takes two of them to say _you’re welcome_ , but somehow you and I have been going back and forth about this for the last several minutes now. So you tell me who is wasting what?”

“Only because you are a frustrating man who insists on getting the last word,” Bruce grumbled with true frustration.

“Touche,” Clark snickered back.

“Now listen here-” Bruce started to growl as he whirled around to face Clark directly. It was then that a large gust of wind suddenly blew past them causing Clark’s umbrella to completely flip inside out before flying out his hand.

“AH!” both men shouted.

The events that happened after that were kind of a blur to Bruce. When the flurry blew the umbrella away, Bruce’s immediate thought was to save the music, so he quickly tucked the papers into his jacket and hugged them to his body.

Clark seemed to have had a similar thought, but the thing he was trying to shield was the man himself.

At first, Bruce was too stunned to say anything as he felt Clark’s large, warm, all-encompassing embrace around his shoulders and back.

Clark had pulled the man into his chest and was trying to wrap as much of his jacket over Bruce as he could get.

Eventually Bruce found his voice and he shouted through the material of Clark’s damp shirt. “What the hell do you think you are doing?!”

“Umm,” Clark trailed as he seemed a bit confused himself. 

Eventually, though, he regained enough of his senses to explain. “I just thought this would be the best way to save the music…” 

His brow furrowed. “But you’re obviously not going to appreciate my effort,” He started to jerk Bruce in the direction of the building. “So just stop criticizing me for two seconds and let’s get moving.”

Bruce’s obstinacy caused him to try to pull free rather than comply, but Clark’s own stubbornness held Bruce firmly to him. Eventually the maestro surrendered and both men awkwardly shuffled as quickly towards cover as they could move.

“Good thing we weren’t too far from the awning,” Clark chuckled weakly once they made it out the rain.

Bruce had his back to the man.

“Well Clark,” His voice sounded strained. “I… _appreciate_ your noble effort. It looks like this music has not been damaged badly…however, you are now soaked and your umbrella has become lost…”

Clark slightly lifted on his toes so he could try to peek over Bruce’s head to get a better look at his hidden face, but Bruce was turned to far away.

Eventually he gave up and shrugged. “Ah, it’s okay. A little water won’t hurt me,” he laughed lightly. “What’s the saying about fools not catching colds?”

“Well, in that case,” Bruce finally turned to face him. Clark felt his stomach flutter when he saw Bruce’s pure smile. “You should be perfectly fine.”

The moment was short lived as Bruce’s smile twisted to a haughty smirk. “However, the school halls might not be so immune to your stupidity.” 

“Oh, yeah,” Clark blushed sheepishly. “I probably shouldn’t be tracking all this water everywhere.”

Bruce let out an exasperated sound and shook his head. “Come to my office with me. I think I can at least offer you some dry shoes and a jacket.”

***********************************************

“Here,” Bruce tossed the loafers and dark blue duster at Clark. 

The man was currently ruffling the hand towel Bruce had offered him through his hair before he suddenly felt the items fall into his lap. 

“Thanks,” Clark mumbled as he started to examine the shoes. “You sure keep prepared. How did you know the two of us would be the same size?”

“I didn’t,” Bruce shrugged. “But I at least assumed we would be close…” his eyes widened. “What are you doing?”

The now shirtless Clark blinked up at Bruce. “The jacket is a little small, but it will do…” he innocently answered.

Bruce quickly turned his face away the moment their eyes met.

“What?” Clark asked defensively, not exactly sure what to make of Bruce’s behavior. “I just thought since you gave me this dry jacket, there was no point in me wearing this wet shirt,” he let out a regretful chuckle. “Too bad you don’t have some extra pants. My underwear is soaked.”

“You really have no sense of decency...” Bruce mumbled through the hand over his mouth.

Clark’s eyes lit up with mischief as he suddenly realized what was bothering the man.

“You were the one who complained about me tracking all the water. It’s too late now to pretend like you didn’t _lure_ me into your office just to get me undressed.”

“Ridiculous,” Bruce snorted while unintentionally stealing another glance at the half naked man.

The angry lines over his brow instantly disappeared and turned to the shape of worry.

Clark immediately noticed and recognized what Bruce was looking at and answered the man’s silent question.

“Oh this?” he brought a hand to he large scar over the right part of his chest. “I got this after the accident…” his eyes darkened. “My scarlet letter…”

“Clark…” Bruce mumbled before a loud whistling sound suddenly jolted both men out of their thoughts.

“Oh, the tea!” Bruce blurted before he hurriedly disappeared into an adjacent room in his office. When Bruce returned, Clark had completely zipped up the jacket and covered up his scar.

“Here.” Bruce commanded as he offered Clark a mug.

“Thanks,” Clark smiled as he graciously accepted it.

He let out a chagrinned laugh. “Heh, I went out there to save you, but in the end, you’re the one taking care of me…I guess I really am hopeless.”

“I didn’t ask to be saved…” Bruce bluntly replied before his eyes drifted off to the side, and he mumbled. “However, I am thankful that you did. Now my students will have the music that they need for next week,” his azures went back to their typically sharp shape. “Speaking of my pupils, I have a class starting soon.”

Bruce set his own cup down and started to gather up some things before turning around and pointing at Clark. “Once you feel you are adequately dry, you can leave. I expect you will return the shoes and jacket to me later.”

“Haha, alright,” Clark nodded as he watched Bruce make his way towards the exit. “And thanks again.” 

**************************************************

“Hey Beethoven!” the boy jeered with a mocking laugh. “HEY!”

Jon didn’t even look up from the music he was reading and just took another bite of his cereal.

“Oh you’re just gonna ignore us?” The older boy growled.

“He ain’t ignoring us,” the boy’s companion chuckled before tugging on his lobe. “Remember, his ears don’t work right.”

“Tch,” the boy spat. “Then what’s he even doing here in the first place?” 

“Oh, he’s just another one of Director Grange’s pet projects,” a third kid snickered.

The first boy rolled his eyes. “I guess we have to let a few charity cases in to look pretty on paper.”

“Yeah, just another pity case,” the shorter kid laughed before shouting at Jon. “You hear that, Ludwig?”

“Of course he didn’t,” another boy chortled.

After that, they all broke into a fit of laughter before walking past Jon and leaving the cafeteria. 

Jon let out a sigh of relief when they left, and set his book down. It was the same group of boys who had bullied him the first day he came to the school, and since then, they always seemed to make a point to mock Jon whenever he was alone.

Jon frowned at his bowl before his eyes suddenly caught two piercing blue orbs blazing in his direction.

He looked up, and saw Damian standing over his table holding an empty tray.

“You really are more pathetic then I imagined, Kent,” Damian snorted. “To just sit there and let them talk to you like that. Where is your pride?”

Jon’s forehead wrinkled with bridled frustration. “Somewhere those jerks can’t even begin to touch it,” he gritted. “My dad told me I don’t need validation from bullies. They’re just words that don’t even bother me at all. I know why I’m here.”

Damian quirked a brow. “Oh?”

Jon’s tightly pierced lips loosened to form a light smile. “To play the music that I love.”

The baffled look of confusion that followed almost made the whole encounter with the bullies worthwhile to Jon. It was the first time Jon really saw his roommate express anything but anger and annoyance towards him. 

Damian quickly turned his face away and Jon felt a little more than disappointed.

“Whatever,” Damian grumbled as he started to walk away. “It’s not as though it involves me anyways…”

**************************************************

“I won! Can you believe it!” Jon exclaimed before jumping into his father’s arms and hugging the man’s waist.

“Congratulations, son,” Clark cheered while returning the embrace. “I didn’t expect anything less.”

He pulled away and smiled at the boy. “This calls for a celebration dinner.”

Jon’s eyes widened and sparkled back. “Yeah!”

Just then, Bruce showed up behind the grinning pair. He glanced at the board with the contest results and merely shrugged his satisfaction when he saw the score.

Jon scurried away from his father and beamed up at Bruce with pure admiration. “Maestro Wayne, thank you so much! I never would have won if it wasn’t for you.”

Bruce raised a hand to the boy and nodded. “I don’t need your thanks. I wasn’t the one on the stage playing for you. Besides, I do have my reputation to uphold, so if you did not impart the results I expected, it would have been due to a failure on my part.”

“That’s a rather harsh way to assess yourself, Maestro,” Clark interrupted as he finally made his way towards them.

“Well, it’s not as though I’m only hard on my students,” Bruce countered before redirecting his gaze onto Jon. “In any case, enjoy the rest of your evening, Mr. Kent. You earned it.”

After that, Bruce waved a farewell and started to walk away.

Jon tugged on Clark’s sleeve. “ _Daad_ ,” he whined as he looked at the man with large pleading eyes.

Clark didn’t need any more words to guess what he son was asking.

“Bruce, wait!” Clark called out as he ran towards the man.

Bruce sighed with frustration and turned around. “I told you already not to call-”

His complaints stopped halfway in this throat when he caught Clark’s bright blue entreating gaze.

“Will you join us tonight for dinner?” Clark asked with a hopeful voice. “This is as much your win as it is Jon’s.”

Bruce turned his eyes away. “I don’t need any kind of reward for doing my job.”

“Who said I was rewarding you?” Clark smirked back. “You said so yourself. This was all Jon’s doing. We just thought we’d celebrate the victory together.”

“You shouldn’t fuss over every competition,” Bruce frowned.

“Why not?”

“You might become over confident.”

Clark’s nose crinkled. “We’re just having a little fun.” 

“It is okay to have that from time to time,” Clark added with a playful smile

Bruce let out a scoffing sound.

“Come on Maestro,” Clark goaded as he made a nudging gesture towards the man. “I think you are a bit overdo for a little of that. Besides, celebrating after a victory is always good for morale and don’t you think having plenty of that will only help Jon even more.”

“Please, Maestro,” Jon all but begged.

Bruce looked at Clark’s large doe eyes and then towards Jon who somehow managed an even wider look.

An obviously aggravated yet defeated breath puffed out Bruce’s nose. His resolve was no match for their tag team effort.

“Very well, I suppose you are not wrong in your thought process.”

“Yeah!” Both Kents chimed in unison.

The group ended up going to a nearby family restaurant that none of them had ever been to before. The food wasn’t bad, but it also wasn’t anything to rave about. However, none of that really seemed to matter to anyone that night. The atmosphere just seemed to be perfectly sweetened as Jon and Clark lit up the place with their cheerful voices and attitude.

Bruce didn’t really talk much. Instead he just silently observed Clark and Jon and only really spoke when he was asked a question.

At first, Clark had been certain that their hospitable gesture had actually been a nuisance to the maestro, but every time he snuck a look at the man when he wasn’t looking, Bruce had a small yet content smile spread across his face. 

It really was a much better look than the man’s typical frown. Several times that thought almost slipped out Clarks’ mouth, but he did an expert job of keeping the comment to himself. It would be a shame if he caused that smile to fade.

“Well, I think Mr. Kent has had his fill of the night,” Bruce half laughed as he looked over at the boy snuggling beside his father.

Jon would spend every weekend at Clark’s apartment. Unfortunately, the man lived about an hour away from the school, and usually took a bus to get there. Considering the contest had been in the evening, and they stayed out late for dinner, Jon ended up falling asleep before they could even make it home. Then again, Bruce did remember Jon mentioning how he couldn’t sleep a wink the night before due to his excitement.

Clark had offered to pay for Bruce to take a separate cab ride home, but Bruce just shirked the gesture and made a comment about how it was waste of money and gas since he actually lived even further out, and in the end they just shared the ride home. 

“Yeah, but have you?” Clark asked in response to Bruce’s statement.

“Hm?”

“Why don’t you and I get a drink? It is the weekend after all,” Clark suggested with the same pleading eyes that had gotten Bruce to join them for dinner. “I’m still not very familiar with the Gotham area so I was hoping maybe you could show me a good _safe_ place.”

Bruce closed his eyes and let out a trifle sound.

“Mr. Kent’s father, you like to hope big don’t you? Assuming that I would host you around town…”

Clark just grinned in response. “Well, if you’re going to dream, why do it small?”

Bruce’s brow furrowed. “Clark…” He paused and made a strange face before looking at the man questionably. 

“Fine,” he eventually sighed, “But you’re buying.” 

“Of course,” Clark laughed as he felt a lightness take his chest. He wasn’t exactly sure why, but Bruce accepting his offer had made him feel really happy, and just maybe he would get a chance to see some more of Bruce’s smiles…

To Be Continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah! I finally got to write some sweet interactions between Bruce and Clark. I even got to do the cliché sharing and umbrella scene I’ve always wanted to write!
> 
> Even though they have some fun and heated arguments for me to write, I really do prefer when Bruce an Clark are on friendly terms and mostly teasing each other instead.
> 
> Jon and Damian are still in their rough patch, but Damian is actually not a tough cookie to crack. I know he is really rude and blunt, but he is actually a much more honest character than Bruce. That is actually why he comes off so bad mannered. He just doesn’t know any restraint when it comes to expressing himself, lol. Also, I really feel like the boy only knows how to express himself with the small range of emotions that he learned from his mother and grandfather. Not giving too much away, but his situation is a bit similar in this story as well as far as the environment he grew up in. He just needs good family and friends to show him the more loving and caring side of emotions!
> 
> Well, I hope you enjoyed this cute chapter because now I want to start digging a little into Clark and Bruce’s past more, so the story will get a bit more somber, but I can still manage some fluff in between.
> 
> Hope everyone is still enjoying this story though, and thank you so much for reading!


	6. Winter Wind by the Beautiful Blue Danube

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure if it’s confusing anyone, but I just wanted to reiterate the fact that Bruce calls Jon “Mr. Kent” and just calls Clark by his first name (or some kind of insulting name or “Mr. Kent’s father” depending on his mood). It’s because it’s a form of respect he shows all his students, but also there is another underline reason for this that will be explained later. As for Clark, it’s not as though he is calling him by his first name because he wants to be familiar. It’s just that he doesn’t feel like showing him the same kind of respect he shows Jon. 
> 
> Bruce is being a bit of a troll, lol.

“So, Maestro, how long have you lived in Gotham?” Clark asked a he fiddled with his mostly empty cup. At this point his gaze was drawn to the heady foam slowly dissolving at the bottom of his mug, giving him the perfect excuse to avoid all eye contact with the person sitting next to him. 

The two men had made their way to a somewhat upscale bar on the edge of town, and though there seemed to be many other patrons present, the atmosphere was quiet and surprisingly intimate.

For a moment, the only reply Clark got was the sound of clattering as he watched Bruce shake about the bits of ice in his glass before eventually setting it down.

Outside his drink order, Bruce remained mostly silently causing Clark to resort to babbling for the majority of the night in retaliation to the awkward silence. Eventually though, he worked up the nerve to veer the conversation so he could finally get Bruce to engage, which was admittedly the whole reason he’d invited the man out.

Bruce let out a somewhat incensed sigh and Clark felt his doubts rise further. He’d already gotten the impression that Bruce felt inconvenienced by his invite to dinner and to the bar, but Clark was determined to get to know the man better and perhaps clear the bad air that developed between them when they first met. Still, if he was just succeeding in irritating Bruce further, this probably wasn’t going to help his track record.

“As my place of residence, Gotham has always been my home, though in my younger years I spent quite a bit of time traveling,” Bruce finally replied.

“Ah, I guess most musicians who’ve earned the title of maestro have,” Clark chuckled somewhat nervously as he tried to continue to steer the conversation. Maybe allowing Bruce to talk about himself rather than listen to Clark rant would make things more interesting for him

“Yes, back when I still performed and competed…” Bruce nodded. He shrugged. “But that time in my life is over now.”

“Aww, too bad. I sure wouldn’t mind hearing you perform again,” Clark laughed with genuine disappointment. “That time I heard you playing Lois’s song…”

Clark’s eyes darkened and his smile slightly dropped.

Bruce was carefully watching the man and definitely noticed his sudden shift in mood.

Clark snapped back to reality when Bruce tapped the lip of man’s glass signaling the bartender to refill it.

“Hmm, I hadn’t actually played outside of teaching for a while,” Bruce hummed as he stirred his drink by rotating the glass. “I suppose in that case my curiosity got the better of me.”

“So, the only thing you do now is teach?” Clark asked after nodding his thanks to the bartender. 

“Yes, that is what I’ve been called to do. With these skills of mine, I will pave the future for musicians that can take my place.”

“You’re such a diligent guy, Bruce,” Clark smiled.

“Maestro.” Bruce corrected while pointing a disapproving finger at him. “Just because you’ve managed to douse me with a few drinks doesn’t mean I will let you slip up on the formalities.”

“Diligent buy still a killjoy,” Clark groaned before he started to chuckle out. “I guess there isn’t enough alcohol in this town to get you to lighten up?” 

“Well, my tolerance is pretty high,” Bruce half scoffed. “Especially for someone as uncouth as you.” He narrowed his eyes and smirked. “Though I wonder about you? Your face has gone quite flush.”

Clark’s blush deepened. “Oh, that’s how I always react when I drink, even if I just have one.”

“Hmm so even the face is as honest as the man,” Bruce purled while sipping the last bit of his drink.

“You know, you’re a pretty honest guy too. You definitely don’t cut any corners in the _blunt_ and _direct_ department,” Clark grumbled before his expression softened up a bit. “But you know, I think it’s part of what makes you such a great instructor. The kids get enough smothering and petting from us parents, but I guess sometimes it’s okay to give kids a little boot out the nest so they can really spread their wings and fly.”

“Well, I’ve been called many things, but never before the man who forcibly kicks fledglings,” Bruce snorted. 

Clark saw Bruce’s loose smile and started to laugh out until eventually the maestro couldn’t help but chuckle too. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but something about Clark was annoyingly contagious.

Clark wiped away a stray tear of laughter before Bruce’s even yet pointed tone cut through the mood.

“You know, Clark, in the spirit of being honest, I think I will admit something to you.”

“Oh?” Clark blinked as he looked back down at Bruce and saw that despite his smirk Bruce had a row of tight lines edging his brow and mouth.

“Clark, truthfully, in the past…” he paused and his voice sounded somewhat subdued. “I was actually quite fond of your writing.”

“You were?” Clark unconsciously blurted.

“Yes…” Bruce sighed. “Well, at the beginning, not so much. I’ve never been one who was keen on gimmicks. So when news spread in the music industry about a composer with the ability to turn a player into a song itself, I thought it was all nonsense.”

He looked up at the wide eyed Clark and frowned.

“Especially after I sight read a few of the pieces you wrote. None of them seemed out of the ordinary or all that special in design. Of course I could tell they were composed by a well-seasoned writer, but the music never jumped off the pages for me. That is, until one day you wrote a piece for one of my best students.”

“Who?”

“Richard Grayson.”

“Dick was one of your students?!” Clark all but exploded.

“Ah, so you remember Dick?” Bruce smiled.

“Of course I remember him!” Clark exclaimed excitedly. “I remember every one of the people I wrote for, but I have to admit, Dick was a remarkable pianist and also he was a little extra…” Clark’s eyes sparkled. “ _special_.”

Now there was no denying Bruce’s proud expression. “You thought so too…”

“Yeah,” Clark answered with a vigorous head nod. “The waltz I wrote for Dick, it was so graceful and captivating. Probably one of the most beautiful songs I ever had the pleasure to compose. I really was so lucky to be able to write for him.”

“Well, of course Dick was extremely ecstatic about you writing that waltz for him, he even personally delivered the tickets for his concert to me so that I couldn’t make the excuse of never receiving them.”

Bruce slightly gritted. “Begrudgingly I attended, but when I heard him play your piece, it…” Bruce let out a small defeated laugh. “It stole my breath away.”

Clark’s breath hitched but he expertly muted the sound when he saw the pure look of nostalgia spread across the maestro’s face. He’d never seen or thought it was possible for Bruce to make such an expression. 

As though he’d been transported back to that same time and place, every sound and note washed over Bruce as a more than vivid memory in his mind and without much thought those images began to flow freely from his heart as he spoke them into words.

“Never in my life had I ever heard a song capture the heart of a musician so well. It was sweet and gentle, yet playful, fierce, and most of all hopeful. It was…truly the embodiment of everything Dick represented. All his joy and kindness, his insecurities, his desires, everything I knew about him and more you perfectly captured into song.”

Bruce’s nose crinkled.

“I thought for sure though that this was all just in my head, that Dick just played the song so well I’d been fooled into being moved. So I tried playing the piece myself but it…” frustration started to cloud Bruce’s features and he let out a sigh. “It wasn’t the same at all, and it wasn’t as though I played the song poorly. I actually played it perfectly, even more flawlessly than he did, but I…” Bruce smiled with resignation. “My performance was no match and even though I didn’t want to admit it, I knew it was because that song was written solely for him.”

Clark felt his breath return when Bruce’s face fell back to its normal expression. Luckily that was the same moment that Bruce turned back to meet his gaze.

“Of course, me being the stubborn man that I am, I wrote it all off as a coincidence, a fluke, that is until you wrote a piece for another student of mine…”

Clark looked at Bruce expectantly, but for some reason Bruce was making a strangely dark expression.

“Jason Todd,” Bruce finally revealed.

“You taught Jason too?!” Clark gasped.

“Yes,” Bruce grimaced and Clark started to wonder why Bruce’s grip around his glass was tightening. 

“Jason was…he was a _troubled_ youth I took in after he tried to pickpocket me.”

“You’re kidding,” Clark chuckled.

“I…” Bruce seemed to be struggling with his words and Clark could see a bit of sadness take his eyes. “Jason had a tremendous amount of passion, but also much anger as well. I thought teaching him to play the piano would be a good way for him to channel all that raw emotion.”

“Well, I think you were right to do so,” Clark replied with an assurance he wasn’t exactly sure why he was giving but knew Bruce needed. “Jason, his technique, it was out of this world!”

“Yes, he had quite the nimble hands,” Bruce agreed with a genuine smile. “He was made to play Chopin, mastering pieces that adults twice his age with triple the experience had never truly succeeded at performing. He played things that I couldn’t have even dreamed of tackling when I was his age. I truly thought he would be the one to surpass me…”

“Yeah, that’s why the song I wrote for Jason was probably the most technically difficult piece I ever composed,” Clark nodded enthusiastically as his own memories started to remind him of the many sleepless nights he spent working on the piece.

“Jason was so lively and energetic. He had this way of drawing in an audience with his bold personality, but at the same time I realized just how complex his character and motives really were.”

“Yes, all those things you just said, the Etude you wrote for him was everything I felt when I heard him play your composition,” Bruce breathed back with elation. 

He then lowered his head and stared at his hazy reflection being mirrored back through the melting ice. “After that, I was thoroughly convinced of your skills, and you’d won yourself another fan, but then one day you just…” Bruce looked up at Clark with question. “You quit.”

Clark felt his chest twist. He’d seen this expression one too many times now that look of confusion, regret, and abandonment. Quickly he turned his eyes away and tried to pretend the bitter taste in his mouth was just from the beer alone. 

Bruce didn’t push the question further and continued to speak. “I admit, it was a great disappointment to lose a fine composer in this day and age because really, what all musicians want is to play something great, however,” Bruce’s voice went harsh. “The animosity I had for you wasn’t born because of your desertion from the industry.”

“Animosity?” Clark unconsciously echoed back. He then forced his gaze back at Bruce and saw that the man was now glaring at him.

Clark laughed weakly and seemed a bit confused. “I guess I did get that impression when we first met, but I thought it was just because you were an ass.”

“So I’ve been told,” Bruce shrugged. “But for you, my _assery_ was a bit elevated. You see, before you decided to quit composing there was a music competition they held, and the grand prize was to have you write a piece for the winner.”

“Oh yeah, I remember that…” Clark trailed.

“My student, a Miss Stephanie Brown, she worked her fingers to the bone, and spent countless nights practicing to win that contest only to have the prize ripped from her hard working hands.”

“Really?!” Clark gasped before his face fell to complete mortification. “I…I feel horrible. I had no idea they picked a winner…”

Bruce slammed his glass down and stood up. “Clark, when God gifts a person with talents such as yours, it is a sin to forfeit your obligations to the world.”

“Hah!” Clark snapped back. Though he felt terrible learning about Bruce’s news, the former composer was pretty sick of hearing this same criticism. 

“So because I was blessed with a special skill, I don’t get to have a choice in the matter? Is that what you’re saying?” Clark asked as he also stood up and held his ground.

“Yes, that is precisely what I’m saying.” Bruce replied back evenly. “It's the very reason I teach despite the fact that I _hate_ the piano.”

Clark’s frustration immediately dissolved and turned to surprise. “What?”

“In any case,” Bruce sighed as he started to gather his coat. “It’s late now and even though it’s the weekend, I have engagements to attend to in the morning.” Bruce threw down a wad of cash on the counter.

“I suggest you don’t stay out too late yourself considering you have Mr. Kent to attend to.”

Clark looked down at the money and though his first instinct was to feel offended since he’d offered to pay at the beginning of the night, he just couldn’t muster up any energy to argue.

“Oh…okay,” was all Clark managed to mutter. “Thanks for the company, Bruce.”

“Maestro,” Bruce quickly corrected before making his way towards the door.

“Maestro…” Clark mumbled as he watched the man leave.

**************************************************************

“Mr. Kent, you seem a bit distracted today,” Bruce snapped.

“Oh, um, s-sorry Maestro,” Jon apologized.

Bruce kneaded the bridge of his nose. “You need to keep better focus. Your next competition is right around the corner.”

“R-right…” Jon stumbled back.

Bruce looked down at the boys trembling hands and sighed. “I suppose we will afford a moment to break and perhaps you can also take some time to reflect on your mistakes.”

“Okay…” Jon nodded before stretching his fingers.

Bruce started to shuffle and arrange some music on a nearby stand before he heard a quiet voice.

“Maestro, I want to thank you for the other night.”

“This again?” Bruce sighed tiredly. “I told you already, I’m only doing my job.”

“No, I mean for giving your ticket to my dad so he could make it to my concert.”

“You know about that?”

Bruce turned back around and was met with a bright smile.

“Yeah, my dad told me.”

“I suppose your father makes a habit of telling you ever little mundane detail about his life,” Bruce scoffed.

Jon’s lips lifted to an even prouder shape. “Yeah, actually, he does.”

“You two seem to be quite close,” Bruce slightly sneered.

“Well, yeah, of course, he’s my dad and my _best_ friend! I mean, don’t you and Damian…”

Jon quickly gasped and covered his mouth.

“Mr. Kent, I’d rather not get into my personal affairs with my students,” Bruce muttered without changing his expression.

“I’m sorry maestro, I was being rude!” Jon quickly apologized.

Bruce closed his eyes and hummed.

“Hmm, but as your advisor I suppose our circumstances are a tad bit different also considering he is my son and your roommate.”

He reopened his azures and looked at the boy with honest concern. “So might I ask how you two are getting along? Are you still at odds with one another?”

“No, not really,” Jon nodded. “We just kind of keep out of each other’s way and that seems to be working…”

“I know the circumstances that led you two to room together were a bit… _strained_ ,” Bruce let out another longer breath. “I do apologize for the arrangement. Honestly Damian does not get along with other students very well and that had a large part to do with him never having a roommate till now. However, his room was the only one open, and I didn’t see any other available options. Also,” Bruce looked at the tiny boy with plain solidarity. “I thought someone like you might have a better chance at getting along with him.”

“Really?” 

Bruce nodded. “Well, you do seem to be a rather patient individual, Mr. Kent.”

“Oh well, I deal with all kinds of people considering my condition,” Jon shrugged. “If I let every little thing others do bother me, I’d be living a life where everybody else controls my happiness instead of me.”

“Sound advice,” Bruce smirked.

Once again the boy looked overcome with admiration. “Well, my dad usually gives pretty great advice.”

“Does he now?” Bruce strummed back with an odd expression. “In any case, I appreciate all your efforts and understanding towards the situation. I should hope Damian might actually gain something out of you two being roommates. Perhaps your father’s _great advice_ will rub off onto him one day.”

“Maestro…” Jon murmured as he caught the faint smile on his instructor’s face. He’d never seen the man look like this before and for some reason it made his chest feel a little funny.

“Well then,” Bruce continued before clearing his throat and picking his wand back up from the stand. “Now that I know your living arrangement is not the problem, I’m not exactly sure what the reasoning is for your sloppy performance today. Let’s get back on track, Mr. Kent.”

“R-right Maestro!”

***************************************************

A soft tap sounded from the open door.

“Hey Maestro. You busy?”

“Clark,” Bruce nearly groaned. “To what do I owe this _unannounced_ visit?”

“Well, I thought before picking Jon up, I would return your shoes and coat,” Clark answered as he offered up the jacket and loafers. He then stood in the doorway as though he were waiting for some kind of permission.

Eventually Bruce motioned for him to come in.

“Sorry I took so long getting them back to you. I wasn’t sure how fancy your jacket was, so I went and had it dry cleaned just to be on the safe side.”

“And yet somehow it still smells like you,” Bruce muttered as he accepted his coat.

“Does it?” Clark blurted worriedly.

Bruce just smiled at Clark quizzically. 

“I can never tell when you’re joking,” Clark griped. Bruce’s lips curled higher.

“So, about the other night…” Clark started while rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry I was so pushy about getting you to go drinking with me. I really was just trying to make an effort to get to know you a little better and my Pa' always said you could really get to know a fellow when you get a chance to buy them a drink.”

“Oh?” Bruce hummed before whirling around. This threw Clark a little off guard causing him to back into a nearby piano.

“And since you have, what is your assessment of me now?” Bruce asked as he took a step into Clark’s space.

For a second, Clark just examined Bruce’s capricious smirk. Something about it seemed a bit off.

“Well, for one, I think I seriously misjudged you, Maestro. I didn’t think we had so much in common, but now…”

“Oh, because you found out I used to be one of your empty headed followers?” Bruce scoffed without backing down. He leaned in a little closer and his voice dropped an octave.

“Does it _stroke_ your ego knowing even someone as stalwart as I once fell to the whims of your writing?”

Clark redirected his gaze away from Bruce’s eyes. For some reason they were starting to make him feel uncomfortable.

“Well…I would be lying if I didn’t say hearing you say all that wasn’t flattering,” he readjusted his frames and then found the nerve to look back down at the smaller man. “But I, no, that’s not what I meant at all. I just…” He smiled with a bit of restored confidence. “I can tell were both a lot alike in the fact that despite everything this industry has put us through, neither of us seems to be able to turn our back on the music…

I can’t pretend I understand your full circumstances since there is still so much I don’t know about you, but I can at least relate to your feelings and respect where you are coming from.”

For a split second something faint and almost painful shined behind Bruce’s royals.

“So that’s how you see me? Just another victim with wounds for you to lick?”

Clark’s face scrunched.

“Well, that’s not exactly what I-”

“You like to presume a lot, Mr. Kent’s father…” Bruce snapped before taking another step closer. “ _Clark_.”

Clark felt something shake down his spine when he heard Bruce roll out his name. It also didn’t help that Bruce had a queer unreadable smile playing his lips.

“So do you really want to get to know me better?” Bruce asked.

“Umm…” Clark hummed nervously while failing to avoid direct contact with Bruce’s dangerously lit up eyes.

Bruce took another step closer and Clark felt his feet shuffle backwards until his back was completely flush with the piano.

“You’re right, there are many things you don’t know about me,” Bruce purred with amusement as he watched Clark try to scale up the piano in a sad attempt to escape but only succeeding in partially sitting on it.

“Uhh…” Clark chocked when Bruce suddenly slipped between his legs. He then forcibly grabbed Clark’s messily strung together tie and twirled it through his fingers before lifting up on his toes so their faces were close. “Perhaps I shall reveal them to you?”

Clark’s face was now a mess of hot red panic. He could hear and almost feel his heart leaping out his chest and yet no matter how much he wanted to look away, he was completely caught and captivated. 

“B-Bruce?” The man stammered and then suddenly a hand was slamming down on the piano.

Clark snapped out his daze and looked down at the balled up fist and coat sitting beside him before he looked back and met Bruce’s fierce eyes.

“Listen to me carefully, Clark,” Bruce growled as he yanked the tie so it was partially choking him. “You’re not the only one realizing things about the other. I can see clearly the kind of man you are as well, and as far as I’m concerned neither of us have anything to gain from each other’s company.”

He finally released Clark’s makeshift noose but Clark was still finding difficulty breathing correctly with Bruce so close to his face.

“Whereas I agree that for the sake of Mr. Kent it would be best for us not to be at odds, that does not mean I intend to get familiar with you beyond that. Besides,” Bruce gritted. “Someone like _you_ is better off keeping his distance from someone like _me_.”

“Maestro?” A weak voice called from behind him. 

“Umm am I interrupting?” A young teenage looking boy stammered. Despite his dark skin, his blush was bright and obvious. “Should I...come back later?”

“No, Mr. Thomas,” Bruce grounded as he finally stepped away. “Clark was just on his way out.”

To Be Continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for those of you who patiently and faithfully waited for this chapter. I got a little caught up with my job since lately I’m required to travel a lot. I also was trying to finish up another story because I can barely juggle writing two fics at once, lol.
> 
> In any case, I did not forget about this lovely story. I very much enjoy writing it. Honestly, I really like developing Bruce and Clark’s relationship from the ground up, and I am in love with Jon! He is just too sweet and the perfect foil for Damian though he is also doing a great job winning Bruce over in this story too. 
> 
> I am glad I decided to go the direction of adding a little Jon and Damian to this story because I recently seen some dissonance between the Damian and Jon fans in the comics, and I just want to say I can already see these two characters becoming the best of friends. Bats and Supers always have to butt heads at the beginning, it’s just common DC law now, but you know at the end, it only makes them closer and personally Damian is less stubborn than Bruce, and I think Jon will be less stubborn than Clark too. Anyways, that’s my peace on that whole ordeal, lol.
> 
> Anyways, I hope everyone liked the little bit of Dick and Jason I wrote into this fic. Still not sure if either will make an actual appearance, but I can say for sure Jason and Bruce’s relationship will become important to the story later. Slowly I will piece together Bruce’s less obvious problems, and Clark’s own trauma is just around the corner…
> 
> In any case, I cannot actually share the songs Clark wrote for Dick and Jason, but I at least found some pieces that can give you an idea:
> 
> Of course I had to go with Johann Strauss II iconic “An der schönen, blauen Donau - Walzer, Op. 314 (aka The Blue Danube)” for Dick. This is my favorite piano version: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WOc_KdkDLKo
> 
> And for Jason we have Chopin’s “Winter Wind", Op. 25 No. 2 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ePvpuLSKz9A
> 
> Alrighty, well hope to see everyone next chapter!


	7. Elegy for Lois

“Happy Birthday, Mr. Kent.”

The boy blinked up at the man with obvious bewilderment. “Wh-what?”

The top of Bruce’s forehead wrinkled. “Is today not it?”

“N-no, you’re right!” Jon blurted. “it is…” 

Bruce took note of Jon’s apprehensive tone and expression, but interpreted it as his usual shyness.

“Well, just because it’s your birthday, don’t think I intend to let up on today’s practice,” Bruce reproved.

“Of course not, Maestro!” Jon immediately assured.

“However, I do wish to teach you a new technique,” Bruce added with a bit of a mouth quirk.

Jon’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Well, I may not be one to give gifts, but I can at least impart some useful knowledge.”

“That’s even better!” Jon beamed.

Bruce quickly whipped his back to the boy. Jon’s bright smile had slightly caught him off guard and for some reason his own lips were starting to rise.

He started to rustle up some papers by the piano before babbling out a diversionary response.

“I suppose you and your father have big plans tonight.”

Jon turned his head coyly to the side. “Oh…yeah…”

Bruce turned back around. “Well then, I will try not to work you so that you are too exhausted to enjoy the night.”

Jon gave the maestro an artful smile. “I thought you said you weren’t going to let up on me today.”

“I know what I said, Mr. Kent,” Bruce retorted. “I don’t need you to repeat my own words to me,” he pointed his wand at the boy. “I don’t plan to let up on our normal regiment. I just plan to add your _gift_ on top of what you usually do.”

“Oh…” Jon mumbled with a deflated shoulder slump.

“Don’t look so down. When you eventually master this skill, you will be more than happy you learned it.”

“Alright, Maestro…” Jon sighed as he took his seat at the bench.

************************************************

She messily pushed her ginger locks behind her ear. It’d always been a nervous habit of hers.

“Sorry, I really wish I didn’t have to leave you hanging like this, but this opportunity came so unexpectedly.”

He shook his head and smiled. “No, its fine. I understand. I’m thrilled for you. You really worked hard to earn that seat in Vienna.”

She smiled back. “It’s only thanks to you.”

“I merely polished the talent you yourself already possessed. All the real work was accomplished by you,” Bruce replied frankly.

She chuckled lightly. “I knew you would say that. You’re just like a broken record, always saying the same things as if any of us are buying it. All of us know if it wasn’t for you, none of us would have made it this far. I mean, Dick still mentions your name at all his concerts.”

Bruce wrinkled his nose. “I appreciate the sentiment, but it is as I said.”

She rolled her eyes. “Alright, _Maestro_. So stubborn.”

Her expression turned to concern.

“So, who will you get to replace me? I’m sure if you ask Tim-”

“Damian refuses to work with him,” Bruce immediately refuted. 

“Really now,” she huffed with frustration. “As if Damian has any right to be so picky, especially when he knows Tim is more than his match.”

“Yes, but I think Damian sees him more as competition.”

“They don’t even play the same instrument,” the redhead balked.

Bruce let out a tired sigh. “I can’t pretend to understand Damian’s motivations,” his eyes darkened. “Actually, I hardly understand anything about him…

In any case, you and Dick are the only ones Damian has ever cooperated with.”

“That’s because Dick is annoyingly persistent,” the woman snorted.

“And he somewhat fears you,” Bruce added.

She smiled back shrewdly in response.

“Also as far as Tim is concerned, he is busy in New York now, so even if I did ask, he wouldn’t be available.”

“Oh…so what will you do now?” She asked.

Bruce smiled emptily at the table. “Don’t worry. I’ll figure something out.”

“Alright,” the woman sighed though nothing about her face really looked convinced. “And I’ll be sure to send you a list of my own recommendations,” she offered.

“Okay,” Bruce nodded. “Thank you, and once again, congratulations Ms. Gordon.”

“Thanks, Bruce…” she smiled back.

Not much time passed after Bruce’s former student left before the maestro decided to lock up and head home. There really wasn’t much else he could do at this late hour. He would have to try to figure something out in the morning.

“Mr. Kent?” Bruce questioned when he walked by the only practice room with lights still on.

The boy was slouched over a piano dabbing at the keys before he was suddenly jumping up in response to Bruce’s appearance.

“M-Maestro!”

Bruce’s confusion was apparent from his voice as he entered the room and eyed Jon warily. “Mr. Kent, what are you doing here?” 

The boy’s face fell, and he turned his head to hide his eyes.

“What’s wrong? Are you alright? Did something happen to your father?” Bruce asked worriedly.

“No…” Jon mumbled.

Now Bruce seemed even more puzzled.

“Then why are you still here? I thought you and your father-”

“He’s not coming, okay!” The boy suddenly shouted.

Admittedly this was the first time Bruce ever heard the boy raise his voice leaving him a bit stunned and not exactly sure how to respond.

A quiet sniffle sounded the room and before Bruce could react, the boy was quivering out.

“I’m sorry I lied, but I didn’t want anyone else saying anything bad about him.”

“Why would I?”” Bruce asked while taking a few more steps closer.

Jon shook his head and wiped at his face and nose. “I’m okay with my dad never doing anything for me today.” 

“What?” Bruce unconsciously replied.

“I really am,” Jon continued to assure. “It’s just that…” he finally looked up at Bruce. “I’m worried about him being alone right now.”

Bruce was slightly taken back by Jon’s murky tear-filled eyes and wide frantic expression. 

“Worried about him?” Bruce echoed as he cautiously took a seat by the boy. “But you’re the one who is…”

“He’s never alone on this day,” Jon explained. “But Ms. Lana isn’t here now and…”

The boy couldn’t even finish his sentence and instead looked at the ground.

“I see…” Bruce replied as realization finally took him.

“He always makes it up to me on the weekend, so it really doesn’t bother me at all. It’s just that I’m worried about him,” Jon continued to defend. “I tried calling him so many times, but he won’t pick up…”

Bruce’s eyes sharpened when he noticed Jon was starting to tremble. 

For a few moments he just listened to the boy’s muted sobs before eventually replying.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Kent. If it will ease your mind, I will check on him for you.”

“What?” Jon blurted. “Really?!”

“Yes,” Bruce nodded. “So settle down, and when I find him, I’m sure he will be okay.”

“At least until I speak with him…” Bruce gritted to himself.

Jon didn’t seem to hear and instead rushed the man. 

“Thank you so much, Maestro!” Jon exclaimed while hugging Bruce’s waist.

Bruce was a little more than startled by the action and for a second he just held his hands out and looked at the boy with a baffled expression.

Eventually though he conceded defeat and patted Jon on the back reassuringly all while silently cursing Clark.

*************************************************

“Do you really think this is where you should be tonight?”

“Bruce?”

As Bruce predicted, Clark was brooding alone at the back of the bar where Bruce had taken him several weeks ago.

Clark looked up at the man scowling over him and blinked dazedly as though he hadn’t heard as single word he said.

Bruce exhaled with frustration and continued to berate. “Your just drowning away in your own sorrows like some slovenly drunkard?” 

Clark frowned and returned his attention to his glass. “Bruce, I’m really not in the mood for you tonight.”

Bruce slammed his hand down on the table and growled. “I really don’t care if you are.”

For a second, Clark stared back at him wide eyed. Eventually though he regained his composure and muttered back wryly. “Just leave me alone. Isn’t that how you told me you preferred it? For us to keep out of each other’s business?”

Bruce ignored Clark’s bait to throw his own words against him, and instead sat at the seat across from him. 

“Perhaps I misjudged you, Clark Kent,” Bruce seethed. “Because as far as I could see, you’ve always been the kind of man who puts his son’s needs above his own, but for some reason you are here sulking while your eleven year old boy sits alone crying on his birthday over you.”

Clark grimaced at Bruce’s revelation, the glass in his hand tightening. Eventually though he replied back in a voice dripping with resent. “You don’t understand anything at all.”

Bruce let out an idle laugh. “Perhaps I don’t because I thought cherishing the ones who are still alive made more sense than fretting over those who are no longer in this world,” he leaned forward so that their faces were level.

“Time is a short thing, and you don’t know how much more of it you will have with the ones you care for, so why would you waste such precious moments like this?”

Clark forced his eyes into his glass and grounded with barely contained frustration. “Bruce, I’m just not really in a celebrating mood…”

Bruce didn’t even seem phased by the slowly unwinding man and continued on with his assault.

“I don’t think that Mr. Kent is either, but that doesn’t mean he deserves to spend this day alone. You may have lost a wife, but he lost his mother.”

Clark lowered his head with shame and finally broke down.

“You’re right, Bruce! You’re right, but I…I just can’t do it! I just can’t bear to face him. Not on _this_ day!”

Clark slammed the glass down and glared at Bruce.

“I can be strong for Jon any other day, but not this one! Not today!”

For a moment Bruce remained silent as he took in Clark’s sunken red eyes and uneven breaths.

“So even after all these years, you still can’t move past this?” Bruce quietly asked.

“No,” Clark gritted.

Bruce lowered his gaze. “I see…”

Clark ticked bitterly. “Do you Bruce? _Do_ you?”

He narrowed his gaze and spat back. “Do you have any idea what I’m going through? Do you have any idea the burden, the guilt that I feel?

I want to let go, to move past all of this, but I can’t because I…” Clark started to choke up before finding the words to finish. “I don’t deserve to. Not after what I did.”

Clark’s eyes fell back down towards the table and his voice dropped to an eerily calm tenor.

“I can never forget a woman like Lois, she was the love of my life, but at the same time, every time I look at Jon, I just can’t…the way that he has to suffer, motherless and with the difficulty he has to deal with for the rest of his life, and I just…sometimes it’s so hard thinking about it, I can barely get myself out of bed.”

“You speak as though you’re putting all the blame upon yourself.”

“That’s because everything that’s happened is my fault!” Clark snapped.

Bruce eyes darted about Clark’s darkening features with question. “Clark?”

Clark combed a hand through his hair before sighing out with resignation. “I know the papers made a fuss about the accident that led to Lois’s death, but a lot of details were actually left out, especially the part where I…”

Once again the man stumbled and had to take a moment before regaining an alarmingly even voice.

“On the night that Lois died, I was so preoccupied with my work I actually hadn’t slept for days.

I could never bring myself to charge a lot for my music, so instead I took several requests at once. Typically I don’t take many at one time, but Lois was pregnant and couldn’t perform or book any tours, and money had been so tight due to the extra medical bills incurred because the pregnancy. So I thought if I took on extra work, it would help alleviate some of the financial strain.” 

He laughed dejectedly.

“But I took on more than I could chew, and my last few songs, I didn’t think I would meet the deadlines.

Clark’s voice started to break. “So I went so long without any sleep or rest, and I just…I wasn’t in my right mind at the time.”

Bruce felt the pit of his chest ache as he took in Clark’s pitiful expression. He could just see it in his eyes, the deep blue desolation of a man reliving a nightmare in his mind. A part of him wanted to scream and tell Clark to stop, but instead he just silently listened.

“I ended up finishing my last piece late, and I knew penalties would be incurred, but my editor said if I was able to get the composition to his office before they closed, he might be able to work something out, but that day I also needed to get Lois to the hospital for an appointment, so I decided to stop by my office beforehand,”

Clark’s grip on the end of the table clenched. “But there was just no way I could make it there before they closed, but I had to try.”

Now he was shaking.

“I shouldn’t have been speeding though, not with Lois in the car with me, and I was just so tired and somehow I missed that red light and…”

Clark finally broke down and dropped his face into his hands.

“Clark…” Bruce whispered while fisting his own fingers in an effort to keep them from doing something he was certain he would regret.

After a few moments, Clark’s sobbing died down, and he finally spoke.

“When they got her to the hospital, she was barely breathing, and she lost so much blood…the last thing she managed before she died was delivering Jon. They said after that, she passed.”

Clark smiled emptily at his reflection in his glass.

“But Jon was delivered three months early, and because of that, his body didn’t develop properly, and that’s why he’s deaf in one ear, and…”

Clark’s face fell to the table as he began to sob into it.

“Bruce, I promised I was going take care of them. I promised to protect them both, but I…”

Once again his words were lost in a pool of tears.

“Because of me, Lois is gone, and Jon will have struggle for the rest of his life!” 

Clark pounded a fist to the table.

“What kind of horrible husband and father am I? How could I do such a thing to the two people I care about most in this world? There’s no way I can make up what I did to either of them.”

He looked up at Bruce with wild eyes and shouted.

“It should have been me, Bruce! It should have been me! Why was I the only one to survive unscathed?”

Clark glared up at the ceiling as though he were making some kind of declaration and growled. “I just wish I could trade my life for theirs…”

He lowered his face back down in defeat. 

“I don’t know how I can ever make it up to Jon, and I know being here instead of with him isn’t even coming close to it, but I just…” Clark looked at Bruce with sincere question “How can I face him? How can I look at him and see him suffering the way that he does on a daily basis and pretend to be alright?”

Clark shook his head and cried.

“I can fake it the other 364 days, but on this one day, even after all these years…I just can’t…I’m just not strong enough. At least, not on my own, at least not without Lois…”

Bruce wasn’t sure what to say as he watched the man weeping in front of him. It was a lot to take in, and he knew no words or feelings of pity could ever make things right for the man breaking down in front of him, and yet despite knowing this, even if just in the slightest bit, Bruce wanted to comfort Clark’s heart. 

“Clark I…” Bruce started. “I’m sorry…”

He felt so pitiful. Was this really the best he could manage?

He looked down at Clark’s near empty glass and saw the man’s hollow image in it.

“Well then,” Bruce softly replied. “Perhaps on this day, Mr. Kent is the stronger one. At least that much I can tell, but if anyone shouldn’t be alone on this day, then I would say it is you.”

Clark looked back at Bruce with a confused slightly lost expression. Bruce answered back with a weak smile.

“But considering you are such a prideful man, and the fact that you won’t let Mr. Kent to see you in such a state, I guess I have no choice but to fill in just this once.”

“Bruce…” Clark mumbled.

Bruce raised a hand towards the bar. “Next round is on me.”

To Be Continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, Bruce had to deal with two broken down Kents!
> 
> So now Clark’s tragedy has finally been revealed. I definitely see him as the kind of person who grins and bears things till he gets to a point of just falling completely apart. Unfortunately his only emotional support right now is his son, and this is the side of himself he doesn’t want to ever show him.
> 
> Clark’s definitely been suffering quietly for the last eleven years…
> 
> As for Bruce, his side of the story is going to be more of a slow reveal, but it’s obvious he and Damian don’t get along, and he also has his own hard feelings towards the world of music.
> 
> Well, I hate to end a chapter so heavily right before the holiday, but just know that these two characters were brought together for a reason, and they are going to find something good at the end of all this :) 
> 
> Thanks again for reading everyone!
> 
> I couldn't quite think of a good song for this chapter, so I just decided to with one Nobuyuki Tsujii's Elegy. This song was written for the vcictims of the tsunami of March 11, 2011 in Japan. It's a moving piece, and it reminds of something Clark would write for Lois. 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eqs58cNMyi8


	8. Sweet Bird Aria

It was either the throb in his temple or the ache in his skull. He wasn’t sure which was to blame, but regardless of the culprit, one or both was the reason he was abruptly shaken from his dreams and pulled into a pounding reality of nausea and dizziness. 

“Ughhh…” Clark groaned while dazedly looking at his own feet. For some reason, his body was slumped over and he couldn’t lift his head up. “Whe-where am I?”

“Home.” The frank voice in his ear sternly replied.

Clark blinked once and then two times more before the sandy carpet floor of his two bedroom apartment came into focus. “How did I…”

He chuckled when a slow somewhat painful realization edged his mind.

The realization that he now had one arm slung over Bruce’s shoulder, the shorter man practically supporting the entirety of Clark’s weight as he struggled to guide the man through his apartment, all while silently cursing under his breath. 

“What’s so funny?” Bruce snapped when he felt the steady shake of Clark’s shallow laugh.

Clark leaned in towards Bruce, or at least attempted to, but realized later it was too much effort for his body to support. In the end, he just settled on resting his face against Bruce’s neck and hummed back. “You’re a lot nicer than I pegged you for, maestro, coming out all this way to make sure I got home safe.”

Bruce made a grating sound with his teeth that even the sloshed Clark Kent recognized as annoyance. 

“Don’t think I’ll make a habit of this kind of hospitality,” he growled.

“Of course not,” Clark snickered, his eye catching the slight hue of pink tinging Bruce’s ears. 

Clark’s lopsided grin teetered further.

“Well then, let’s get you to bed,” Bruce instructed as he heaved the saggy Clark towards the mattress. Clark tripped on his feet and was sent tumbling towards the comforter, however he didn’t take the fall alone. 

“WHOA!” Clark exclaimed when he felt his entire world tumble. Luckily a plush landing of cotton and springs secured his fall followed by a heavy weight landing on top of him.

Clark let out a punched breath when he felt the pressure against his lungs, his eyes popping open as he gasped.

That’s when he met the wide azure gaze of a very startled and discomforted maestro. 

Their eyes locked. Clark wasn’t sure what kind of expression he was making. Whatever it was, it must have given Bruce quite a shock because in less than half a beat, Bruce’s face was paling and he was scrambling to climb off of him.

Clark wrapped an arm around the man’s waist and trapped him in place. For some reason, he found Bruce’s reaction too cute and amusing to let him leave now.

“Bruce…” he sighed, and he felt his expression change shape. What he wouldn’t give to see his own face now. To keep it away and use it the next time he wanted to see Bruce turn a shade of red he never thought possible.

“C-Clark…” Bruce stammered while failing to avert his gaze. 

Clark reached one hand out, and then stopped just millimeters from Bruce’s bright crimson cheeks.

“Bruce…” he lulled, his hand ever slightly feeling the heat permeating the tips of his fingers. “Has anyone ever told you that you have the most beautiful blue eyes?”

Bruce’s pupils shrank or maybe it was just that his eyes had doubled in size.

Eventually though he answered. “Yes…”

Finally Clark willed the nerve to cradle that tantalizing warm pink skin with his palm, his thumb ever so slightly brushing one of Bruce’s eyelids shut. “They’re so remarkable,” he murmured. “Like an endless azure sky kissing a white dawn…”

“If that’s a line…” Bruce’s nose scrunched up, and though he was obviously frowning, something about the curve of his lips and lightness of his voice gave Clark the impression he was holding back a smile. “I suggest you stick to writing music.”

Clark wasn’t sure if Bruce was joking. Whether he was or not, that’s how he decided to take the statement. 

“Haha, yeah,” he suddenly erupted with a laugh. “I guess I always was better at expressing myself through my music, but still…”

Clark slightly lifted his head and every one of Bruce’s muscles tightened at the closing distance between their faces.

Clark’s voice trilled out a soft exaltation and he grinned. “Whenever I look at them this close, I can’t help but feel myself getting lost.”

Bruce’s turned his eyes away, and mumbled lowly. “Clark, has anyone ever told you that you are incredibly forward when you’re drunk?”

“Well, they do say honesty is the best policy,” Clark snickered as he closed his eyes and dropped his head back to his pillow.

For a moment, the room went silent, and slowly Clark’s thoughts began to form into something vaguely coherent, his mind warning him to let the man go before he did something he would regret, but his hands refusing to comply.

Clark mumbled more to himself than to Bruce. “I wish I could just reach out and…”

“Clark…” Bruce hitched when he felt fingers trace up the curvature of his back and pull the back of head forward. 

“So stunning…” Clark whispered, their lips now only a breath apart.

At this point, Bruce’s heart had stopped and all sensible reason had abandoned him. Instead he just melted into the warmth of Clark’s touch and let his own eyes drift shut.

His mouth tingled with anticipation as he slightly parted his lips and allowed himself to be pulled in even closer.

“Lois had the most striking blue eyes.”

Reality struck the maestro like a painful kick in the gut, and his eyes immediately flew open. What exactly had he been thinking? That’s right. He wasn’t.

Bruce kneed Clark hard in the stomach, forcing the man to let out a rough gasp and release him.

“Of course she did,” Bruce ticked as he pulled away and sat up.

Clark winced but continued on with his tactless thoughts. 

“It was the first thing I noticed about her, the reason I even gathered up the courage to talk to her. Even though my knees were literally shaking the first time we met, but I just had to get a closer look.”

“Mmm hmm,” Bruce hummed as he helped Clark out of his jacket and shoes. 

“They were so stunning…” Clark mumbled while allowing Bruce to handle his body without any restraint.

“Yes, yes,” Bruce grumbled as he removed Clark’s glasses and set them on the nightstand. “I’m sure they were quite lovely,” he pushed Clark roughly back towards the bed and the man easily succumbed to gravity. “But for now you should close your own eyes and that rather large mouth and sleep this off so that you can spend tomorrow making up your stupidity to Mr. Kent…”

Clark nodded his agreement. “Mmmkay…” he closed his eyes. “Goodnight…”

Bruce wanted to scowl but for some reason Clark’s content boyish grin just made him grimace back a smile.

“You frustrating idiot…” he muttered as he pulled the sheets over the man’s face so he didn’t have to look at it.

He then brought a hand to his own chest. The slow ache he felt earlier was gone now.

Clark couldn’t say when Bruce finally left. Maybe it was only few minutes later. Right now time felt a bit fleeting and irrelevant, especially now that his mind and thoughts were spinning.

He turned to his side and looked at the empty space where he felt Bruce sitting earlier.

He blinked towards the door and sighed. “I could gaze into your eyes forever…” his lips curled into a smile as he drifted back to sleep.

“…Bruce…”

****************************************************************

“LOOKOUT!” The boy cried before sliding in the dirt just in time to catch the tumbling Damian.

The wind nearly knocked out of him when he felt the knee in his gut and the elbow at his ribs.

After recovering, Damian quickly shoved a hand into Jon’s face and leapt to his feet. “What are you doing here!” he demanded behind a furiously flush face.

“Umm…” The slightly dazed Jon murmured. There was no way he could tell his roommate the truth. That in fact he would often find himself sneaking off during his afternoon breaks to the clearing where Damian practiced so he could listen to him play.

For some reason, whenever he was at this place, Damian would play freely and without restraint. Nothing at all like his staid practice drills or his flawless yet mechanical performance pieces.

When it came to skill, Jon could tell Damian was in a different league than most violinists. So much so Jon could hardly believe they were only three years apart. 

Still, the things that won his roommate so many competitions always felt stale and dry to the boy. All the music played with absolute perfection, but never any real emotion. However, for some reason, when he would hideaway at this secret area, Damian would play like an entirely different person, and Jon had admittedly fallen for the performances of this hidden musician.

Jon loved music to the very depths of his soul, and he thanked the heavens daily that he wasn’t completely deaf. To live a life where he couldn’t listen to such treasured sounds was something he didn’t even want to imagine.

So whenever he had the time, Damian’s secret fan would sneak off to listen to his performances, however, on this particular day, just as he was creeping to his usual hiding spot, Jon noticed Damian climbing up a rather large oak tree, and when he saw the boy slip and fall, his body couldn’t help but react.

Damian’s blue eyes blazed suspicion as he waited for Jon’s response.

“I was running late for class” Jon lied while looking off to the side in a not so convincing manner. “So I decided to cut through here when I noticed you in that tree…” he attempted to move the conversation away from his lie before Damian tried to digest it further.

“Are you alright?”

Damian’s forehead crinkled which only made his scowl more prevalent. “Yes, I was doing just fine on my own.”

Jon’s eyes lingered to the creature Damian was cradling in his arms. The reason he’d actually fallen from the tree considering he’d been trying to climb it with only one hand.

“Oh my gosh is that a baby bird!” Jon blurted.

“Why are you shouting?!” Damian snapped while cringing.

“Oh, sorry…” Jon apologized.

When he spoke again, his voice was much more subdued. “Were you trying to get it back to its nest?”

Damian didn’t answer and just narrowed his glare.

“Do you need help?” Jon offered.

The blue in his eyes went electric and immediately Damian was on the defense. “No, I don’t need your help. You think I don’t know how to climb a tree?”

“No, I didn’t say that,” Jon assured while waving his hands in surrender. “But maybe if you were climbing with two hands instead of one it would be much easier for you.”

“For instance…” Jon gestured “If you had a hoodie on like me, maybe you could…” 

“Hmph,” Damian snorted though for some reason Jon could tell it was more a huff of acknowledgment than one of his usual indignant grunts. 

“See,” Jon smiled weakly as he cautiously reached for the bird. “I can put the baby in my hood, and then I can use both hands to climb. Do you mind if I help?”

Damian looked straight into Jon’s eyes, and suddenly the boy felt incredibly small despite having a few inches over him.

Eventually though, Damian relieved Jon of his icy glower.

“Fine,” he grumbled as he reluctantly resigned ownership of the fledgling.

“Where is the babies nest?” Jon asked.

“There,” Damian pointed.

Jon squinted his eyes and looked where Damian had directed him. “Oh I see it!” 

With ease he managed to scale the towering oak. After spending so many summers at his grandparent’s farm, Jon could climb a tree like this with his eyes closed.

“There you go little guy,” Jon cooed as he nuzzled the bird safely back into its nest and patted its head.

“Don’t expect any gratitude,” Damian sneered the moment Jon landed safely back to on the ground. “I told you I had it handled already.”

“Yeah, I know,” Jon shrugged without argument. He then waved a farewell to his frowning roommate. “Okay, well, see you later.”

**************************************************

“DAMIAN!” The boy shouted just as he watched the branch he was climbing onto snap in half.

It almost felt like déjà vu. Jon out of breath with a knee in his side and a cross armed Damian sitting in his lap glaring down on him.

“You’re coming here on purpose!” Damian accused.

“Uhh…” Jon trailed “Well…I,” he fumbled for another excuse. “I just wanted to check on the bird?”

“Is that so?” Damian didn’t look convinced and the questionable inflection at the end of Jon’s sentence didn’t help. 

Jon’s eyes drifted guiltily away from Damian’s scowl, and that’s when he noticed a ruffle of feathers in Damian’s hood.

“Oh my gosh, did this little guy fall out the nest again?”

“No…” Damian answered in an oddly quiet tone.

Jon looked at Damian with pure confusion. “Then what happened?”

Something pained caused Damian’s eyes to darken. “His parents left him.”

“What?”

“For the last few days, I never once saw his parents come to feed him. So yesterday during our day off, I watched out for them all day, and they never once came.”

Jon eyes widened with disbelief. “You spent your entire day off watching out for this little guy?”

Damian’s color paled and an alarming white flashed in his eyes. “Don’t get the wrong impression!” He sputtered back. “I just merely use this area as a spot to practice. No one besides you has ever intruded here and the layout has great sound quality!”

Now his face was the exact opposite shade of red and the volume of his voice kept fluctuating between different volumes.

“However, this nuisance would not shut up with his incessant chirping, so I thought if I fed him, I could finally get some peace and quiet.”

Jon felt the center of his chest swell. Never before had he seen his roommate shift between so many different facial expressions and emotions. Dare Jon say that Damian sort of looked _human_?

Jon’s own face went red though it was more from trying to hold back his laugh. He knew Damian would take it the wrong way.

“Well, he’s not going to eat that,” Jon pointed out when he noticed the bag of bird seed sticking out of Damian’s pocket. 

“And what do you know about feeding a baby bird?” Damian scoffed as he shoved it deeper into his hoodie so it was out of view.

“More than you apparently,” Jon grinned. “My grandparents own a farm, and I visit them a lot during the summer. On more than a few occasions we’ve taken care of different animals, baby birds included.”

Damian’s brow furrowed into a contemplative shape, and Jon could tell he was ever so slightly getting through to him.

“Really, the best thing is for us to take this little guy to a vet or a refuge so a professional can look after him, but for now, he hasn’t eaten for days…but he’s too young to eat seeds, and I bet he’s pretty weak right now…”

Jon stood up and patted his jeans while casually instructing. “Take him back to our room, and I’ll meet you there shortly.”

Damian’s first thought was to be offended by the command, but his curiosity got the better of him, and he was also a bit taken by Jon’s suddenly confident air.

“What are you going to do?”

“Get him something to eat,” Jon winked.

*************************

“He’s even noisier than before,” Damian grumbled as he watched the baby bird with feigned disgust.

Currently Jon was using a medicine dropper to feed the tiny ball of fluff. 

Even though Damian’s lips were pierced into his signature scowl, the way his sapphires were sparkling as he watched the bird betrayed his true excitement. 

“He was pretty hungry,” Jon chuckled with a warm smile. “But I’m glad he’s so energetic now. I think that means he’s going to be alright.”

Jon glanced at Damian through the corner of his eye and could tell from his intent stare and gaping mouth what he was thinking.

“You wanna try?” Jon offered as he motioned the dropper towards him.

The baby bird complained loudly with a chorus of peeps.

Damain glared back at Jon as though he were luring him into some kind of a trap before he grudgingly accepted the feeder.

His hand was a bit shaky at first, but the moment the fledgling started to guzzle the food, Damian’s eyes nearly bulged out their sockets, and his breath caught inside his throat.

Jon snickered silently at Damian’s restless attempt to hold back his elation. His breaths were now uneven and his face was turning an even brighter shade of red.

The edges of Jon’s mouth tugged up further as he watched both Damian and the bird and quietly debated on which one looked cuter at the moment.

“So, what should we call him?” 

“Why does it matter?” Damian snorted.

“Well, I guess were not really keeping him as a pet,” Jon shrugged. “So you’re right. It doesn’t matter, but still…”

Jon stared at the table with detached disappointment.

“Robin.” 

“Robin?” Jon echoed as he looked at Damian who still had all his attention fixed on the fledgling.

“Don’t you think that’s kind of boring?” Jon mulled. “I know he’s a robin and all but wouldn’t something like Nightwing or Flamebird be cooler?” 

“He is a bird, Kent,” Damian droned as he looked at Jon skeptically. “Not a superhero.”

“Alright, alright,” Jon laughed sheepishly. “I guess Robin is fine. Geez, way to take the fun out of it,” he added under his breath.

“Too bad the school is so far away and secluded from town.” Jon casually commented without putting much thought into his words. “We’re definitely going to have to go out a ways to get him to the nearest clinic or refuge and my dad won’t be coming to visit until the weekend. Maybe we can ask your dad-”

“My father doesn’t care to bother with this sort of thing,” Damian immediately snapped back. 

Jon seemed a bit startled by Damian’s fast response and even more bitter expression. “Are you sure? I think if you just asked Maestro, he’ll-”

Damian slammed the dropper down on the table and both Jon and the bird jumped and cowered under his glare.

“Look Kent, if my father never had time to take care of me, why would he bother with something like this? Don’t worry, I can take care of Robin myself if it’s too much of a burden.”

“Oh…okay…” Jon mumbled while tugging at the ends of his sleeves. It wasn’t really what he wanted to say, but it was all he had the nerve to answer with.

Jon always got the impression Damian and his father didn’t get along. Why did he have to go and ruin the moment by touching on such a sore spot, especially after he’d finally gotten this far. Then again, Jon had such a close relationship with his own dad, he really didn’t think much of what he said until it was already too late.

Robin had gone still. Sure he’d been spooked by Damian’s fit but more than likely he was just full and ready to sleep.

Damian collected up the nest and started to take him to his side of the room before he heard a voice call out to him.

“But baby birds like this have to be fed often during the day.”

“Then I will take care of it between classes,” Damian shrugged.

“But…” Jon paused before sucking in a full stream of air and willing out the rest of his words in one breath. “At the very least he needs to be fed every hour. I think with your busy schedule…”

Damian’s eyes went glossy and Jon could tell he was deliberating things over in his head. 

Jon couldn’t let this opportunity slip him by.

Quickly he sputtered out. “But maybe if we compared our schedules we can come up with some kind of way to take turns feeding him?”

“I didn’t ask for your help,” Damian answered evenly.

“I know,” Jon pleaded. “But I want to, for _Robin’s_ sake.”

Damian looked down at the fluffy fledgling slumbering peacefully in his nest, his grip tightening a little as he pressed the bird closer to his body before eventually ticking out. “Ttt. Do as you like.”

Jon’s face brightened almost enough to light up the room. “Alright great!” he chirped. “Then, let’s compare schedules.”

***********************************************

For the last several minutes, Clark stared at the door in silent dread. 

Over a week had gone by since he’d last seen Bruce, and since then he’d taken way too much time to mull over the entire situation. So much so, he eventually found himself standing in front of man’s office, on a day he didn’t need to see Jon, very slowly willing his nerve together. 

“Maestro Wayne,” Clark meekly called out as he tapped on the glass. “Are you busy?”

Bruce opened the door and looked at Clark with mild intrigue at his unexpected visit.

“Clark.” He flatly replied and Clark wasn’t sure how to take the response. The way he said his name was so flat and dry, there was no way Clark could decipher any kind of feeling or meaning out of it.

“Do you mind if we talk?”

Bruce shrugged and gestured to an empty chair behind him. “Go ahead.”

Clark took the seat and even though there was another chair and a bench nearby, Bruce stood in front of him with his arms crossed.

This didn’t help Clark’s confidence at all, to have Bruce hovering over him with a blank expression and his always piercing eyes.

“About the other night…” Clark cleared his throat when he realized his voice sounded cracked.

“I really wanted to thank you for everything…”

He slightly lifted his head so he could peek at Bruce’s expression. The maestro still had the same flat countenance.

Nervously, Clark rubbed at the back at his neck and started to rattle off the first words that came to mind, completely forgetting everything he practiced before arriving.

“I actually don’t usually spend that day alone since I get a little out of hand with my drinking. I always used to have a good friend of mine with me, but since I don’t know anyone in Gotham…” 

He tripped on his thoughts not exactly sure where he was going with them.

“Umm, I also want to apologize for putting you in such an awkward position, and also” his face started to heat up and his voice went soft. “If I said anything weird…”

Bruce’s pupils tapered into a narrow stare, but he held back his reply. 

The silence and unreadable expression was killing Clark worse than any interrogation and once again he found himself rambling.

“I mean, I’m really not sure if I did or not because I can barely remember anything from that night, but I have been told I say some pretty embarrassing things when I drink too much…”

“Oh?” Bruce finally spoke and then he smiled an unnerving smile that made Clark’s spine jolt with anxiety. 

Bruce leaned in so that his sneer was right in Clark’s line of vision. “Do you think you said something strange to me?”

“Umm, well,” Clark shuffled while averting his eyes. “Maybe?”

Bruce let out an amused sound. “And what kind of strange things do you think you would have said?”

“I uhhh, I’m not really sure,” Clark answered honestly.

Bruce brought a hand to lips and tapped at the curl along his mouth. “Really, is that why you’re blushing so much right now?”

“Well, I…” Clark knew any answer was a trap, then again not saying anything was probably just as bad.

Bruce chuckled loosely before sitting down so that he was no longer towering over the nervous perspiring man.

“Don’t worry Clark. You didn’t say anything less absurd than what you usually spout.”

Clark felt all the tension leave his body when he saw Bruce’s face. His typically haughty smirk had returned along with his sharp challenging eyes. Why was this suddenly so comforting to him?

“I’m not exactly sure how to take that kind of response,” Clark half smiled while sitting up with a little more confidence.

“Just rest assure you can feel settled about whatever embarrassment you think you might have caused yourself,” Bruce smirked.

Clark finally felt the rest of his smile form. “Thanks, Br…err Maestro…”

“Well then,” Bruce sighed as he stood back up.

“Wait, Maestro!” Clark suddenly blurted. Then without thought he grabbed his sleeve and tugged him back to his seat. “That’s not all I wanted to say.”

Bruce seemed a bit startled by Clark’s forwardness but didn’t resist.

Clark was also surprised by his own actions but even more relieved when Bruce didn’t protest.

Slowly Clark closed his eyes and then began to recall all the words he’d practiced in his head for days. Thoughts he debated on sharing and all his is unspoken desires.

When he reopened his hazy royals, Bruce was looking at him with puzzled intent and waiting for him to speak. It wasn’t too late for Clark to turn back now, but in the end, he knew he didn’t want to.

“Look , Maestro Wayne,” Clark started. “I know you’re Jon’s instructor and all, but I really feel like I’ve been taking advantage of your kindness, and I was just thinking…”

Clark paused and felt a tug pulling at his resolve and causing it to waver.

“That is to say…I really don’t know many people in Gotham yet, and I know you said you only wanted to maintain a professional relationship, but honestly...what I’m trying to say is…” he let out a long sigh. One he hoped was heavy enough to relieve all his hesitation along with it.

He forced a smile, but it really wasn’t hard once he thought about Bruce answering his question favorably.

“I was hoping maybe you and I can be a little more than just that?”

“What?” 

Bruce’s face was unreadable but not in the sense that it was empty like before. No, this time it was just hard for Clark to decipher because the maestro was furling it into an expression Clark had never seen.

Something about it though was unnerving and Clark soon found himself looking at his shoes and chuckling numbly. “Haha, listen to me, even as a full grown adult, saying things like this is still so awkward, but I guess it gets even harder the older we get.”

Clark was now restlessly fidgeting with his thumbs, interlacing them together and apart and staring at them as though they were the most interesting things in the world.

“So I guess I was thinking maybe you and I can meet up sometime outside of school and…”

When his eyes rose forward, Bruce’s head was completely lowered and his face had a dark shadow obstructing Clark’s view of his eyes.

“Bruce?” Clark asked 

“Clark…” Bruce steadily replied. “Are you asking me out?”

“Well, yeah…” Clark chuckled carelessly. “Because I really think you’re a pretty great guy, and…” realization stole his voice and the white part of eyes enlarged. “Oh my gosh!” Clark gasped. “No, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m so sorry! I just meant as friends!”

Now the man was frantically waving his hands about trying to get Bruce to look at him so he could see his face and read it.

“I didn’t even realize what I was saying,” Clark shouted as he continued to try and clear the misunderstanding. “Oh geez, I’m so sorry, Bruce. I bet I made you feel so uncomfortable just now!”

Clark laughed loudly wishing it could drown out his own voice but knowing it was probably only succeeding in making him seem more manic than before.

“Haha, dang, it really did sound like I was asking you out on a date, didn’t it?” Clark asked in hopes that he could joke his way out his fumble. “Could you even imagine something like that…Bruce?”

For some reason the maestro was shaking causing Clark’s alarm to rise further.

“Of course not…” Bruce chocked with his face still out of view.

“Bruce…”

Bruce finally lifted his head up. Clark wasn’t sure what he was expecting to see but it certainly wasn’t tear-filled eyes and a man struggling to hold back his laugh.

“Clark… you are just such a… _frustrating_ man.”

Bruce let out a sigh of surrender and shook his head. “I do believe a friendship with you would be quite an… _interesting_ thing, but,” Bruce’s voice lowered along with his smile. “You are probably better off not bothering. I’m a pretty difficult person, and it might be more trouble than you think if you pursue anything further than this.”

“Come on, Maestro,” Clark chuckled before nudging Bruce’s leg with his knee. “You aren’t _that_ bad.”

Bruce’s lips slightly lifted back up, and Clark could tell he was making some kind of progress. Maybe this was actually going to work out?

“I can tell you’re a good person, and I really do enjoy your company,” Clark honestly replied while looking wistfully in Bruce’s direction. “Even despite your prickly exterior, I still find myself so easily able to talk with you, and the way that you think is always so insightful and makes me feel like I can grow into an even better person. It’s no wonder all your students like you so much.”

“In any case,” Clark smiled. “I really have a lot of respect for you, and wish I could get to know you better, so I thought maybe if you didn’t mind so much we could take a shot at being friends?”

Once again the two of them locked eyes, but Clark was quick to lose his nerve and look away and ramble. “I know I don’t have much to offer in return, but I-”

“Clark.”

The hand at Clark’s knee instantly silenced him.

“You’re always such a direct and honest person, aren’t you?”

Clark finally removed his eyes from the hand and grinned at Bruce guiltlessly. “Yeah, so I’ve heard, but like my pa always says, _honesty is the best policy_ , heh.”

Bruce chuckled loosely before something distant took his eyes.

“Clark, I’m not sure how to take such a sincere request for friendship…honestly, I haven’t had many myself so I’m not exactly sure what you are expecting or what I can do for you.”

“I don’t expect anything from you Bruce,” Clark laughed with amusement. “I already pretty much made up my mind I like you, and I just want to get to know you better is all.”

Bruce still didn’t reply.

Clark sighed with mild frustration. Why was Bruce overthinking this?

“Okay, well how about we just start by meeting up for some coffee when you get off,” Clark suggested. “My treat.”

Bruce looked apprehensive, but eventually groaned. “Fine, I guess there’s not much harm in that.”

“Great!” Clark triumphed as he stood to his feet. Suddenly the man felt incredibly light and weightless. “Alright, well, see you later then…Bruce?”

Bruce just waved his hand at Clark in a shooing motion but didn’t make an effort to correct him like he usually would. This only caused Clark’s grin to widen, and when he left the office, Bruce was almost certain he saw a skip in his step.

Bruce unconsciously watched Clark’s full exit, unaware of the small smile he was donning. However, once he did wake back up, it quickly turned to a frown, and his eyes went black.

“Clark…” Bruce muttered with a troubled gaze. “You really are a frustrating idiot…”

To Be Continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friendship all around! Those Kents are going to win those Waynes over yet!
> 
> Haha, sorry there was so much teasing in this chapter. I really am not the type of writer who likes to rush relationships, so it’s always such a slow build. I really do believe friendship should come before love. Haha, so once again I am projecting, but isn’t that just a part of what writers do?
> 
> In any case, the scene with Clark asking Bruce to be his friend, as someone who is older now, I really do think it’s harder to make friends. When we were kids, all we had to do was share our animal crackers, lol. Clark made it even more awkward though by just out right asking (who does that?), but I guess with Bruce he really wanted to make clear his intentions and also Bruce is kind of difficult, so maybe Clark figured if he didn’t say it out loud, Bruce would always try to find a way around it. Heh, Clark is really starting to figure out how to handle the maestro better.
> 
> I also very much enjoyed writing Damian and Jon together. I know many of you came to this story for Superbat, but I really wanted to write a Supersons friendship too, so sue me haha. Also, everything will all come together at the end. I promise (I hope).
> 
> On a side note, I don’t know how often I will be updating anymore. I actually decided to go on hiatus because I have been having difficulty writing for several months. Still, I really do hate leaving unfinished works, so one of my resolutions was to try to at least finish one of my stories. We will see if I do, but I do think I have a shot at this one since I already had so many chapters drafted. This story is longer than I wanted it to be, but it’s not going to be another epic Iliad like my other seeming never ending AU, lol.
> 
> In any case, thank you everyone for your patience and not giving up on me or this story <3 
> 
> “Sweet Bird” from George Frideric Handel's _L'allegro, il penseroso ed il moderato_ (The Cheerful, the Thoughtful, and the Moderate Man) : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eopWTEaosZI


	9. The Rift Between

“Hey Beethoven!” the boy crowed from behind Jon.

A few seconds later, a ruffle of dusty blonde hair and a mocking sneer was lording over him. 

For a moment, the boy waited for a reply, his two lackeys standing behind him and laughing at the distasteful comment. However, when Jon only continued to spoon through his food and ignore him, the boy lost his patience. 

He leaned in closer. “Sometimes I wonder if you’re really deaf or if you’re just too dumb to understand what we’re saying to you.”

“It’s probably a little bit of both,” one of the boys snickered.

“Excuse you!” one of the bullies suddenly snarled as he was pushed out of the aisle and into a nearby table.

“Who the hell-” their ringleader cursed when he felt a tray jab into his side. His fingers rolled into a fist, poised to retaliate before he suddenly met eyes with his assailant.

His face dropped along with his tone. “Oh, it’s you.

Standing behind the group was a very irritated looking Damian glaring up at them. “You’re blocking my seat, _move_.”

“Why you little-” the older boy growled, but before he could fully pull his arm back, it was snatched up by one of his companions.

“Donnie,” he hissed lowly with warning. “You know who that is, right? Let’s just drop it and go.”

Donnie’s threatening posture waned, and instead he just clenched between his teeth. “You’re lucky you’re the Maestro’s son, twerp.”

After that, the group retreated, their leader pushing past Damian roughly as he walked by. Despite the hard treatment, Damian stood his ground, his challenging gaze never once faltering as he glowered in their direction until they fully departed the cafeteria.

Damian set his tray down and without a word started to eat his food.

“Thanks,” a quiet voice mumbled.

“For what?” Damian snapped. “This is my usual seat.”

Maybe the outburst would have been more meaningful had a slight bit of red not taken the boy’s cheeks.

The edges of Jon’s mouth tugged forward. “Okay.”

After that, the two boys continued to eat in silence, until eventually Jon was murmuring again.

“Umm…so my dad and I found a really nice refuge just outside of Gotham that we took Robin to.” He paused and waited for Damian’s reaction.

The boy just shrugged in response.

“The rangers there were really nice, and said we did a great job taking care of him.”

Damian unconsciously raised his head forward. Even though his eyes were still on his food, this was plenty of indication that Jon still had his attention.

“So umm,” Jon continued to stumble. “They said in a few more days, Robin should be ready to eat on his own so they’re going to let him spend time in the big bird cage with all the other rescues, and well…” he swallowed on his words a little before willing up his nerve.

They said we could visit Robin then, so I was thinking maybe,” two hopeful sapphires looked in Damian’s direction. “May you want to come with me and my dad when we do?”

“I will have to check my schedule,” Damian answered back evenly. He then stood up with his empty tray in hand.

“Great!” Jon smiled. “Well, just let me know what you decide.”

Damian just nodded before walking away.

*************************************************

“Here you go, Maestro.”

Bruce grimaced at the cup being forced into his hands, his frank expression only met with an eager smile. 

“One freshly ground coffee, light cream, no sugar.” Clark gestured the cup again with a wink. “Just the way you like it.”

“How do you know that?” Bruce asked with more confusion than offense.

“Well, I just noticed that’s how you always ordered it the two times we’ve dined together. So I figured it was a lucky guess,” Clark’s grin widened. “Well Maestro, was I lucky?”

Bruce wanted to frown but couldn’t find the expression once he caught Clark’s enthusiastic smile. Instead he just looked down at his cup and half-smirked.

“Perhaps…though I would say it’s more a matter of you being perceptive than lucky.”

“Yeah, sometimes I can be,” Clark shrugged. “Though probably not as much as you.”

“Why are you here, Clark?” Bruce sighed as he finally moved from the doorway and allowed the man to enter his office.

“Can’t I come by just to say hi?”

“I suppose,” Bruce nodded while taking a seat at a nearby table and sipping his drink. His nose wrinkled when he realized Clark got the taste perfect. 

“But I wonder if this has anything to do with Mr. Kent mentioning a certain concert tonight.”

Clark took the chair in front of him and smiled. “Yeah, but I showed up early to see you.”

Once again, Bruce found his eyes darting back to his drink. 

“For what?” Bruce mumbled. He still wasn’t used to Clark’s direct way of speaking and wasn’t sure how to take his comment.

“Well, this is just a part of that whole friendship idea and the getting to know you better thing I mentioned last time. Geez, Bruce,” Clark groaned with a teasing smirk. “I know you said you haven’t had many friends before, but I thought you at least understood this much.”

Bruce’s thumb traced the edges of the logo along his cup. “So part of us being friends is you showing up unannounced to my place of work with offerings of caffeinated beverages in the middle of the day?”

His voice didn’t sound as gruff as he wanted it to be.

“Yup,” Clark nodded.

“Your kind of friendship is intrusive,” Bruce snorted from behind the cup that was conveniently blocking his expression. “Don’t you have your own work to attend to?”

“Already sent my manuscript to my editor before coming over,” Clark countered with a triumphant smile. “Also, I happen to know you don’t have any afternoon classes or sessions on Thursdays. At least, not according to what Jon tells me.”

“That child really does tell you everything,” Bruce grumbled with annoyance.

Clark shook his head in proud agreement. Whether or not he realized Bruce didn’t mean it as a compliment, the maestro knew it still wouldn’t have changed his response.

“Speaking of which, this weekend Jon and I were headed to the wild life refuge just outside of Gotham, and Jon invited a very special guest.”

“Is that so…” Bruce mumbled disjointedly while rummaging through a few papers sitting in front of him.

“You’re free to come along if you like.”

“No,” Bruce answered almost too quickly. He then recovered from his sudden reply and Clark’s startled expression with a fast explanation. “Your son’s offer was extended to Damian, not me. If I went…Damian probably wouldn’t show up.”

“What? Why not?”

“Damian and I have a bit of a…” Bruce’s brow furrowed. “ _Strained_ relationship.”

“But he’s your son…”

“Not everyone can have the same close knit bond you and Mr. Kent appear to share,” Bruce shrugged.

“Why not? I mean, aren’t you a single father too? I never noticed a wedding ring…” 

Clark’s sentence started to fade, and even before Bruce’s face went tight, Clark regretted his words.

“Umm, never mind, I’m sorry Bruce. I didn’t mean to push you into an uncomfortable conversation. Especially considering the fact that we aren’t all that close yet.”

“Really?” Bruce’s lips quirked into a wry shape. “I thought you and I shared a rather intimate moment at your apartment that night you got drunk.”

“We did?!” Clark blurted with pale eyes and an even whiter face.

Bruce just smiled at him impishly.

“I hate that I can’t tell when you’re joking,” Clark groaned while fidgeting with his frames in an effort to hide his eyes.

Bruce let out an amused sound before following it up with a long sigh. “It’s fine, Clark, it’s not as though my relationship with Damian is something as complicated as you’re probably thinking.

The truth of the matter is I hardly know my son at all because he didn’t come to live under my care until about a year and a half before you and I met. Though strangely enough I’ve probably come to know you better than him in this short time…”

“You see,” Bruce grimaced at the table for a moment as though he were debating something before continuing on with his thought. “Damian was living with his mother in a small city off the Arabian Peninsula at their family’s estate. That is, until his grandfather passed a few years ago.

Due to the nature of my former wife’s work, Damian would have spent most of his time without the supervision of an adult, so we later came under an arrangement to have Damian live with me until her tour and arrangements for taking over the family were completed.”

“Tour?” 

“Oh yes, Damian’s mother is a member of the Budapest Festival Orchestra.

“What? Really?” Clark exclaimed. “That’s amazing! Wow, I bet she was in the same league as Lois.”

Bruce’s eyes went soft. “Yes, Talia is quite a remarkable violinist.”

“Wait, Talia?” Clark looked at Bruce with unnaturally wide eyes. “As in the Talia _Al Ghul_? As in daughter of master Ra’s Al Ghul?”

“So you’ve heard of them?”

“Well, yeah,” Clark breathed excitedly. “Anyone in the classical music industry’s heard of the Al Ghul clan. There’s hardly any violinists who can even come close to matching their skills, at least not in the last couple of hundred years or so.

Lois was actually a huge fan of maestro Ra’s, and I’m pretty sure she mentioned a fondness for Talia’s music as well. I bet I still have some of their old CDs packed away somewhere…”

“I see,” Bruce nodded with a thoughtful glance. “Well, in any case, after Ra’s passed, Talia took over as heiress of the Al Ghul household in addition to taking his position as lead violinist of the orchestra.

Because of this, she’s often away on business or for work, so Damian was living alone at his grandfather’s estate in Arabia at the time.”

“Okay, I guess I can see the distance being a bit of a constraint, but still…” 

Bruce took note of the crinkle of disapproval scrunching up Clark’s face. He could already guess what the man was thinking even if he decided not to voice his complaint.

“I suppose I could just leave the story at that and let you believe what you will,” Bruce sighed, irritated and not exactly sure why he suddenly felt the need to explain himself to the man. “But in my own defense, I will give you a bit more explanation.”

“You see, Ra’s and my father were business partners, but more appositely the Kane and Al Ghul families have had a close connection for over a century now.”

“Kanes?” Clark interrupted again. “Are you talking about the world renowned pianist family?”

“Yes,” Bruce nodded. “My mother was Martha-”

“Martha Kane!” Clark exploded. 

Bruce blinked back at Clark numbly, a bit thrown off by the fact that the man was practically leaning over the table now and looking at Bruce like he was about to erupt with excitement. “Bruce, your mother was Martha Kane?”

“Y-yes.”

“Martha was…” Clark took a moment to collect himself his voice dropping back to normal volume and his eyes glossing over. “Hearing her music, it’s part of the reason I even became a composer!”

“Is that so…” Bruce mumbled with a strange expression.

“Yeah,” Clark nodded vigorously. “I remember when I was just a little kid one day flipping through the channels and happening upon one of her live performances, and I just…it really changed me that day.”

Clark held onto the front of his shirt, old feelings he thought he’d forgotten starting to well up inside his chest. “I still remember how my heart felt like bursting with the desire to create music just as beautiful as hers. Unfortunately I was never a very talented musician, but the music was just…in my head, and one day I wrote it down, and well,” his smile deepened. “The rest is history.”

Clark’s brow crumpled and he looked at Bruce apprehensively. “Bruce, who are you exactly anyways?”

“Not someone who could even hope to stand in my mother’s piano playing shadow,” Bruce answered with a wounded smile.

“Bruce…”

Bruce cleared his throat and quickly changed the subject. “In any case, my ties to the Al Ghul’s started because my mother and father’s relationship with them, and because of that, Talia and I were betrothed to one another.”

“Betrothed?” Clark slightly tilted his head. “Stuff like that still happens in this day and age?”

“To old families of tradition, yes, and that’s exactly what the Al Ghuls, Waynes, and Kanes have always been.”

Clark made a strangled sound, but Bruce decided to ignore it.

“Long story short, Talia and I never worked out, and we ended up getting divorced. Shortly after though it was discovered she was pregnant.

At the beginning, when he was still just an infant, I did make an effort to spend time with my son, but Ra’s and I never got a long very well and something happened between us that led to him forbidding Talia from ever seeing me again.”

“Something so bad he would deprive you from seeing your own son?” Clark asked incredulously.

“Well, I suppose punching him out and breaking his nose was a pretty severe incident,” Bruce replied while casually taking another sip of his coffee.

“Bruce?!” Clark blurted with disbelief.

Bruce let out a weary sigh. “It’s a bit of a longer story…”

A look of regret took his eyes.

“I did attempt gaining custody of Damian, but where I was in my life at the time, it probably wasn’t a good environment for a young child, and Damian was better off living with his mother and grandfather. In the end, I just gave up for Damian’s wellbeing.

I knew doing such a thing would probably cause a rift in our relationship, but I had to think about what was best for Damian and not myself.”

Bruce started to fidget with the empty cup in his hands. 

“But I did try to work towards gaining a more settled life afterwards, one that was fit for my son, and even accepted my position here at the GSPA, but by then, Damian pretty much made up his mind he didn’t want to live with me.”

His face darkened and Clark could tell Bruce’s thoughts were clouding his eyes. 

“No doubt because he’d become pretty close to his grandfather, and was even training under his tutelage as a violinist. Ra’s still didn’t want to allow me to come to his household, and bringing Damian here to Gotham would have disrupted his training which was important to him at the beginning of his development, so once again, I decided to back off.

However, after Ra’s passed, Talia became the new heiress, and although our relationship never worked out as husband and wife, she didn’t harbor the same ill feelings towards me as Ra’s and said that I was allowed to visit Damian again. That’s why I suggested that Damian come to live with me while she was on tour and settling affairs after Ra’s passing, especially considering the fact that the GSPA has one of the best violin instructors in the world, but” Bruce’s grip tightened and there was a slight shake in his hand.

“By then, the rift between Damian and I had already grown so wide. Also, Damian was upset about having his training disrupted and said he would only agree to the terms of living with me if he was able to live on campus where the resources he needed to further his training were more readily available.” 

Bruce let out a remorseful chuckle.

“Maybe I should have been more firm and made him live with me instead, but I understand how important the violin is to him, and also, it’s not as though I have any experience being a father, and maybe a part of me was just…” Bruce’s voice began to falter.   
“Afraid…”

“Bruce…” Clark mumbled, and he felt his own hands twitch. He wanted so badly to reach the man, but wasn’t sure how.

“In any case,” Bruce sighed, the hazy blue in his eyes going clear and refocusing back to their normal lucidity. “Damian and I hardly spend any time together, and when we do, I just get the impression that he doesn’t like me very much, and after Talia’s affairs are complete, he will go back to Arabia to live with her again, so maybe things are just better off this way. That I’m just a stand in chaperone for now and try not to disrupt his life any more than I already have.”

“Bruce, it’s never too late to be a father to your son!” Clark suddenly blurted. “Sure thirteen years have already fallen between the cracks for you two, but that doesn’t mean you can’t start from somewhere.”

Clark raised his eyes and locked his determined gaze with Bruce’s own waned expression.

“Yeah it’s a bit tough trying to build a relationship at the beginning, but that’s how it is with anyone, but if you two continue to avoid each other, neither of you will get anywhere and the older Damian gets, the wider you separation will become, but…” Clark smiled reassuringly and his voice went soft. “It’s not too late, it’s never too late. Both you and Damian are still alive, so right now the only thing standing between you two is yourselves.”

“I see…” Bruce mumbled while dropping his head back to the table. “I was wrong…”

“Bruce?” Clark questioned when the man went silent for several seconds.

“I thought there wasn’t much point in you meeting with me today, but I see now that consoling with you has given me much to consider…” Bruce looked back up, and Clark nearly gasped when he saw the man’s tender expression. “Thank you, Clark.”

“Of course, Bruce!” Clark beamed with a wide grin. “That’s what being friends is about.”

His face went hot. Once again Bruce was staring at him intently with those astoundingly blue azures. Whether it was a tender gaze or his blazing glare, Clark had been taken in by their brilliance since the day they first locked eyes. 

Clark quickly turned his face and started to rub the back of his neck nervously.

“In any case, I can’t say I know how to be the best dad myself, but I’m happy that for once I can try and help you out for a change.”

“You have…” Bruce breathed appreciatively. “You do…”

He stared out towards the adjacent window with a small content smile. “Watching you with Mr. Kent helps me see clearly what I’d like to strive for myself.”

“Bruce…”

Bruce sighed and finally stood up.

“Still, I will have to decline your offer to join the three of you this weekend. Right now, what I think is important for Damian is that I allow him the chance to get to know Mr. Kent a little better without my interference. I truly believe Damian would gain much good from it…”

Clark watched as Bruce made his way towards a nearby waste basket and threw his cup away.

“Bruce, you think you don’t do a lot for Damian, but all these years you’ve sacrificed your own relationship with him so that he could have the things that you thought would better him.

Still, I think you sell yourself too short. A relationship with you is something I think would truly better his life. I mean,” Clark let out a sheepish laugh. “It’s sure been working for me at least, and I bet a countless number of your students would probably say the same.”

“Clark…” Bruce mumbled while looking at the contents of the trash can. “You are a man with a flattering tongue, but I’m not exactly sure where you expect it will get you with me.”

Suddenly Clark was standing beside him. “Well, it’s gotten me this far,” he winked before tossing his own cup in the trash.

Bruce closed his eyes and smirked. “So it has, though I would say it was more your incessant persistence than anything else.”

“Well, that’s the other key, Bruce,” Clark grinned knowingly. “Don’t give up on the things you find worthwhile.”

Clark felt his smile curl further. “Oh? Is that another blush I see, maestro?”

“Shut up, Mr. Kent’s father.” Bruce snapped as he pushed past the man and stormed towards his desk.

“Oh I guess I’ve been downgraded back to Mr. Kent’s father?” Clark jeered as he followed behind the man and snickered. “Why can’t you learn to take a compliment, Bruce?”

Bruce let out a snort and started to arrange the papers in front of him.

“Haha, it’s okay,” Clark chuckled as he leaned against the nearby piano and smiled. “I think I like this look on you anyways.” 

Bruce turned his back to the man and grumbled lowly. “You are such a frustrating man…”

To Be Continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blah, so not a lot of romance going on, but I promise its coming. At least now Bruce and Clark are starting to act more like friends, and you get to have plenty of Clark unconsciously flirting with Bruce now, haha.
> 
> In any case, this was just a really informative chapter. Honestly I think a lot of Bruce’s complicated past will be as the story progresses. I pretty much panned his whole dark past in an outline already, now I just have to work it into this fic, lol. In my mind it’s pretty messed up. Maybe not as directly traumatic as Clark’s, but I think it’s still something people will be able to relate to and understand. 
> 
> As for Damian and Jon, they are headed down the friendship path too. I think I can say now, Damian never liked watching Jon get bullied, even before he cared about him. I know he’s a little shit sometimes (why do i love him now, lol), but at least he has a very firm sense of what he considers wrong and right, and I’ve always respected his sense of justice, even if it did get warped a little by the League. In any case, I have some drama planned for them too, but overall I find their relationship just so cute!
> 
> Anyways, thank you so much to everyone who encouraged me. All your comments really motivated me, and I’m pretty sure I’ll finish this fic. I started outlining several chapters already, and I’m a little more than three fourths through!
> 
> Also, the next chapter should be out sooner because originally it was part of this chapter, but I decided to split it into two. Well, I hope you continue to enjoy, and thanks again for reading ^_^
> 
> I couldn't think of a song for this chapter so here is a really cute father and son duo playing Heart and Soul: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rkqg4VGvBeY
> 
> In my mind, this is what Bruce would have wished for had things turned out differently between him and Damian...


	10. Miniature Waltz

Two curious blue eyes darted across the area with barely contained excitement. Despite their enthusiastic glow, when Damian spoke his voice was as flat and subdued as always. 

“I had no idea such a place existed this close to the mano-” Damian cleared his throat just in time to reword his sentence. “Right outside of Gotham.”

“Yeah, isn’t it great?” Jon grinned.

Currently the two boys were standing in the entry way of the park taking in the sights. There were many cages with various animals in the visitor’s center, and a large expanse of fields surrounded the area before disappearing into a vast tree line of forestry. 

“Honestly, I prefer places like this to the city,” Jon nodded with a nostalgic smile. “It kind of reminds me of where my grandparents live.”

Damian looked at him with question, which Jon happily clarified.

“They own a farm, and I usually stay with them over the summer,” he let out a reminiscent sound. “I love the fresh air, and wide open spaces. Even in Metropolis where we used to live there were always so many buildings in the way, and I could never see the stars.”

“Yes, where I am from you could see many of them for miles…” Damian quietly replied.

“Really? That sounds amazing!” Jon all but exclaimed. “You aren’t from Gotham? Where are you from?”

Damian exhaled deeply but for once, it didn’t sound fueled by annoyance. “Before moving here, I lived with my mother at our estate just off the Arabian Peninsula.” 

“Wow, it must be beautiful!”

“Some areas,” Damian shrugged. “Others not so much.”

“You can say that about any place though,” Jon countered.

“I mean, I do prefer my grandparent’s farm, but there are nice things about Gotham too,” his eyes lit up with recollection. “Like all the really old buildings. You can tell Gotham has so much history and the city worked really hard at preserving it,” his smile deepened. “I like stuff like that, and also, so many old theaters where so many great musicians have played before, and I just get excited thinking one day I can also play in the same halls as them.”

“You really do…look for the good in everything…” Damian mumbled.

“Huh?” Jon asked considering Damian was speaking too low for him to hear. 

“Is that you Jon?” A woman with long auburn hair pulled back in a ponytail asked.

“Oh, Mrs. Lydia!” Jon beamed.

The woman couldn’t help but match Jon’s expression. “I take it you came to see Robin?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t know there were so many other animals here too.”

The woman nodded and then motioned for the boys to follow her.

“Oh yes, this refuge is entirely supported by public donations,” she explained. “So for many of the animals we’ve taken in till recovery, we decided to have a few areas where visitors could see and appreciate them. Then once they are well enough, we release them back into the wild here out on this protected range. In any case,” she waved them towards a large window. “Let me take you to the bird sanctuary.”

“Oh, so many birds!” Jon gasped as he nearly pressed his face against the glass.

“Yes this is the ‘bird cage’ as we like to call it. When we feel our bird rescues are ready to fly, we let them have a test run here. There is plenty of space here for them and they can even look for their own food.”

Both Jon and Damian’s eyes widened with excitement as they both started scanning the area. An array of bright and dark feathers filled the cage which had a plethora of various birds in it.

“So what about Robin?” Jon eventually asked after a few minutes had gone by. “Is he flying yet?”

Lydia shook her head. “Mmm, no not just yet, I mean, physically he shouldn’t have any problems, but I think he’s still trying to build up his courage.”

Jon’s brow started to scrunch into a pensive line.

“It’s okay,” Lydia assured. “In the wild, most young robins spend much of their time on the ground, learning how to forage for themselves, which is why he will be spending a lot of time here in the bird cage. 

Hopefully watching some of the older birds, he will pick up some skills, but usually they can learn for themselves. Besides, Robin, still has a few more weeks before he needs to start worrying about flying.”

Jon looked up at the woman with entreating eyes. “So does that mean we can come and see him again?” 

“Of course,” Lydia smiled back.

Jon’s grin widened before his eyes suddenly caught a familiar foliage of a reddish orange and black.

“Oh look Damian, I see him,” he announced while pointing into the cage. “There’s Robin!”

*****************************************

When they first arrived at the refuge, Jon had been so excited he’d taken off ahead of Clark. 

Clark made sure he didn’t leave his sight, but at the same time he decided to keep his distance a little. Whenever he was around them, Damian didn’t seem very talkative, but when it was just the two of them, the boy seemed much more responsive to Jon. 

Also, Clark didn’t want either boy to know that he was secretly sneaking pics of them with his phone. In this candid type of setting, both of them looked so pure and young.

 _‘I’ll have to save this one for Bruce.’_ Clark thought as he looked at the picture of Damian blushing furiously trying to hide a smile while Jon laughed beside him.

“So I take it you really enjoyed the park?” Clark asked when he finally decided to meet up with his son again.

Jon’s eyes lit up, and he shook his head vigorously. “Yeah, there were so many different birds that I’ve never seen, and they had a few coyotes and foxes, and even rabbits and deer.”

“Oh!” the boy exclaimed while clapping his hands together. “End even cooler, something I’ve never really seen at Ma and Pa’s farm, bats!” 

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah,” Jon nodded. “Apparently there are caves not too far from here where most of them live.”

“Hmm,” Clark hummed solicitously. “I didn’t know so many animals lived near Gotham.” 

“Yeah, the area outside of Gotham is pretty secluded, but preserved really well. It’s because they said much of the land near the refuge is owned by one family, and the refuge area was even donated by them.”

“Is that so?” Clark mumbled impassively. Honestly he wasn’t nearly as interested as his son, then again, by now he was used to when his son got excited like this.

“Mmm hmm, I read it on the plaque in the middle of the park. That’s why they named the refuge Kane Park, after the mother of the guy who donated the land.”

“What?!” Clark blurted. Suddenly his attention was more than fully caught. 

“Oh hey Damian,” Jon greeted when he saw the dark-haired boy approaching them from the bathroom. “You ready to leave now?”

After that, Clark wasn’t able to question him further. The boy seemed much too preoccupied with chatting off Damian’s ear.

“Kane Park…” Clark mouthed silently to himself. “There’s no way this is just a coincidence….” 

***************************************************

“Are you sure you don’t want to join us for lunch?” Clark asked.

Damian looked up at the man with the same firm gaze he always seemed to give him.

“No, I just came with you on this outing to see Robin and nothing more.” 

“Oh…” Jon trailed with visible disappointment.

“Though perhaps…” Damian’s eyes went restless and suddenly he was looking at everyone’s feet. “The next time you go to visit him…” his voice went low. “That is to say…”

“Sure! Of course you can come!” Jon instantly answered as he immediately recognized what Damian was fumbling to ask. “I’ll let you know every time that we do.”

Though he didn’t smile, the flicker of bright blue in his eyes revealed his happiness.

“Then we are in agreement.”

“Yup,” Jon grinned back.

Damian slightly nodded his head before turning his back to the boy and mumbling. “Thank you…”

Jon made a strangled sound of elation, but before he could say anything further, Damian made a quick retreat.

Clark couldn’t help but shake his head and chuckle. _‘Wow, he’s just like Bruce…’_

*****************************************************

“Clark?” Bruce blinked back at the man who’d suddenly barged his way into his office.

Sure he had an open door policy and was used to Clark’s unannounced visits, but usually the man at least knocked and waited for permission before trouncing into Bruce’s life.

“Bruce, I know I asked you this before, but who the heck are you?”

Bruce’s startled expression fell.

He let out a controlled breath.

“I suppose it was only a matter of time before you lived in Gotham this long and didn’t discover the answer to that question.” 

“I thought you were just some piano maestro with a wand up his butt, but now I come to find out you’re a filthy stinking rich maestro with his wand up his-”

“I’m not certain I appreciate your colorful imagery,” Bruce growled with low warning. “In any case, if you’re asking if I’m the Wayne you think that I am, the answer is a resounding yes.”

“Unbelievable…” Clark mouthed incredulously.

“Yes,” Bruce nodded. “My family has played a large part in building the foundation of this city and in the process has acquired a vast amount of wealth.”

“All those times you made me pick up the tab…” Clark grumbled.

Bruce frowned at the man. “Is that honestly what you’re really going on about?”

“No,” Clark snorted. “But _still_ …”

“It’s not as though I rely on my family’s status or wealth,” Bruce defended. “Wayne Enterprises is my father’s company and his money as well. I don’t even bother running it.” 

He shrugged. “Sure every now and again I’m required to show my face to an event in the name of the great Wayne legacy, but beyond that, I don’t really want anything to do with that life.”

Clark’s furrowed gaze went soft. “Bruce…”

Bruce’s nose scrunched at Clark’s sympathetic tone, and he turned his back to the man.

“My share of the Wayne fortune, I’ve donated to various charities throughout the city. As far as my hold in the company stocks, I have a trusted advisor handle that and the company solely so everything stays in the Wayne name. Beyond living in my family’s home, everything else sustained in my life is done by my own efforts.” Bruce turned back around and looked at Clark frankly. “So there you have it, Clark. There isn’t much more to my involvement in that chapter of my life. As you so colorfully put it, I’m just the piano maestro with a wand up my ass?”

“Butt,” Clark corrected with a wry smirk. “I said butt, not ass, but I was just kidding about all of that…”

The corner of Bruce’s mouth twitched but he somehow managed to subdue his smile. 

“In any case, is there anything else you’d like to discuss?”

“Is there anything else I should know?”

“Does anything else really matter?” Bruce asked. “Before when you thought I was just a piano instructor, you made up your mind that was the man you wanted to be involved with, and honestly, that’s the only man I wish to share with you.”

“Heh,” Clark chuckled loosely. “I guess you’re right. The Bruce I know now is the one I’ve made up my mind about,” his expression turned apologetic. “I didn’t really want to dredge up your past again. I was just interested in getting to know you a little better.”

“Understandable I suppose,” Bruce shrugged offhandedly before his voice went firm. “But neither of us has anything to gain from our pasts.”

“Maybe…” Clark mumbled half-heartedly. “But still,” he frowned at Bruce. “I think from now on I feel a little less inclined to treat you out so much.”

Bruce made a scoffing sound through his nose. “I never cared that you did. You just always seemed so eager to please.”

“Well, that’s just the sort of thing nice guys do,” Clark smiled knowingly.

“So now you feel like being less nice because you know that I’m rich?” Bruce retaliated.

“No, I feel like being less nice because I feel like you tricked me somehow.”

Bruce gave Clark and artful smile, “only because you make it so easy.”

Clark rolled his eyes. “I don’t think I want to be your friend anymore…”

“Giving up so soon?” Bruce chuckled.

“No…” Clark huffed. “Maybe…”

“Okay, Clark,” Bruce finally laughed before walking to his desk. “How about a peace offering?”

Clark blinked when Bruce handed him a gold embossed envelope.

“What are these?”

“Tickets,” Bruce answered, “to the Gotham music festival. For some reason, I get the impression you and Mr. Kent are quite fond of music, so I thought you two might enjoy attending. It’s actually a pretty big event where many famous musical virtuosos from all over the world come to play.”

“Bruce, I can’t accept these.”

Bruce waved a hand at Clark who was trying to give him back the envelope. “Clark, really its fine. These were actually given to me for free by one of my former students who coordinates the event.”

“No,” Clark nodded. “I didn’t mean I can’t accept them because of their cost. If anything, you owe me for all the coffees, lunches, and cab fares. I just mean, I already got tickets for Jon and myself.”

“Oh,” Bruce mumbled with slightly deflated disappointment.

“Yeah, Jon was all excited about going because his favorite pianist will be attending.”

Clark’s eyes suddenly lit up. “But how about this? How about I give my ticket to Damian, I bet Jon would enjoy going with him a little more, and these two tickets can be for you and me.”

“What?” Bruce balked. “I wasn’t planning on attending my-”

“What’s wrong Bruce?” Clark suddenly cut in. “Don’t you like music too?”

“I…” Bruce’s eyes went dim and he glanced to the side.

Clark noticed the man’s apprehension but wasn’t ready to give up.

“I’m just curious what kind of music does the great Maestro Wayne like. Are you a Baroque guy, or maybe you just like Classic?” 

Clark tapped the end of his chin with the corner of the envelope in a thoughtful manner. “I doubt you’re into Contemporary all that much.”

“I know!” He suddenly beamed. “I bet despite your stuffy exterior, you’re all about the Romantic-”

“Actually yes,” Bruce suddenly interrupted. “The Romantic era is…was my favorite.”

“Haha, really now?” Clark laughed with proud realization at his spot on guess. 

“And there were a few Contemporary composers I appreciated too,” Bruce looked straight into Clark’s eyes, “One in particular that I really use to admire.”

“Bruce…” Clark’s entire face went red and suddenly he was fumbling with the envelope in his hands so he could avoid Bruce’s intense gaze.

“HOLY GEEZ ARE YOU SERIOUS!” Clark exploded.

“WHAT?!” Bruce gasped with an equal level of alarm.

“These are flippin’ box seats!” Clark exclaimed. “How the heck did you manage…”

Clark’s voice began to trail when he looked back up and noticed the maestro’s irritated glare. No doubt the man was annoyed by Clark’s sudden and unnecessary outburst.

“Like I mentioned, they were given to me by a former student.”

“I could barely afford Mezzanine seats under the balcony, and you get tickets like these…for free!”

Clark’s stunned expression transformed to disturbed envy. “Bruce, why does hanging out with you suddenly feel like walking onto the Kardashian set?”

“Mmm,” Bruce mumbled disinterestedly while refocusing his attention on arranging piles of music at his desk.

“I feel so incredibly small…” Clark sighed.

“Because you’re incredibly small minded,” Bruce answered dryly. He then snatched the envelope out of Clark’s hand and waved it. “These tickets will go to our sons.” 

“Yeah-yeah,” Clark droned dejectedly, “and us old guys can sit in the back of the theater. Not that I really mind.”

He gave Bruce a small wink and smiled. “I just wanted to spend time with you anyways.”

Bruce eyes widened before dropping back down to his work. “Clark…”

“Hm?” The man hummed absently.

“Do you even think about the things you say before saying them?”

“What?”

Bruce shook his head and walked away. “Never mind.” 

“What did I say wrong this time?” Clark asked with genuine confusion.

Bruce just snorted and left his office without any explanation.

“Hey Bruce, wait!” Clark whined as he chased after the man. “Hey, what did I do wrong?!”

“You frustrating man…” Bruce muttered under his breath with a blush.

To Be Continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha, Clark is all up and under Bruce’s skin. I love it! I also love how similar Jon and Damian are to Clark and Bruce, and honestly it’s not even something I’m consciously doing on purpose. They really are just tiny Superbat!
> 
> So the next chapter I consider Bruce and Clark’s first unofficial date. I mean friends can go on dates too, right? _Friends_ , lol. As a really intuitive commenter once said, Clark has no idea how into Bruce he really is.
> 
> Well, I know this chapter was a little short and uneventful, but really it was mostly setup and also it was originally part of the last chapter that I decided to split into two, but hey, now you got two updates in one week ;)
> 
> I think now the story’s focus is headed more towards Bruce’s past. Before I mentioned his trauma is not as obvious as Clark’s, and also Bruce is much less willing to reveal himself too. Luckily Clark is persistent. 
> 
> In any case, thank you so much to everyone! I really hope you will continue to enjoy this story to the end. There is romance coming just around the corner and still a lot more drama on the way.
> 
> The title this time was just based off of me thinking how Jon and Damian are miniature versions of Clark and Bruce, haha. Also Bruce said the Romantic era was his favorite, because Bruce really likes Chopin and that’s the era he composed in. In any case. I just picked one of my favorite Chopin miniature waltz’s this time around.
> 
> Waltz No. 7 in C-Sharp Minor, Op. 64, No. 2: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wTSu1jjKpgI


	11. Rondo Capriccioso

“Wow, that performance was amazing!” Clark reveled while releasing the breath he’d been holding since the music started.

During the entire concert, Clark was barely able to contain his excitement, and as soon as the violinist finished, he was the first to jump up and applaud. 

“Yes, I admit her technique was _nearly_ flawless,” Bruce calmly replied.

“Her technique?” Clark echoed incredulously. After a performance that moving, how could Bruce say such a thing with such a straight face? 

“Yeah, she was pretty on point, but did you hear how much she made that music come alive? I could just feel her heart and soul pouring into those strings and sounding off the stage. Especially when she transitioned to the Allegro assai.”

The lines around Bruce’s mouth deepened to a discomforted depth. “Yes, that was the part where she lost tempo most, and at the end of the final variation.”

Clark’s eyes widened and nearly exploded with his voice. “The end was the best part!”

“If you say so,” Bruce shrugged.

The taller man’s mouth was now hung in a jaw drop state between silent bewilderment and quivering shock. There were about a million protests Clark could’ve unleashed in retaliation to Bruce’s cold hard analysis, but in the end, the only thing he managed to stammer out was, “Come on Bruce, _really_?!”

“ _Bruce_?” a playful voice of amusement trilled behind both men.

“Huh?” Clark replied while unconsciously turning around to the source. 

Standing there before him with beguiling azures of mischief was a dark woman in a sleek black chiffon gown that was almost as sheik and lovely as her. 

The cheshire curve of her lips somehow accentuated her already provocative features an even though her question was clearly aimed at Clark, her eyes were locked onto Bruce. “ _Bruce_? Not _Maestro_?” her smile coiled. “Interesting…”

Bruce replied back with a flat voice. “Ms. Kyle…” 

“ _Ms. Kyle_?” the woman balked with a feint laugh. “Really now, after all these years…”

At the moment, Clark felt incredibly awkward. It was obvious the two of them knew each other, but he wasn’t exactly sure what to make of their connection. The air between them felt too tense to be friendly, but at the same time there was a familiarity there that made Bruce’s hostility towards the woman not entirely convincing. 

It also didn’t help that Clark couldn’t figure out whether the woman was teasing Bruce or picking on him. Her dubious smile was just too hard to read.

“Oh, umm…” Clark mumbled numbly. In his mind he’d finally thought up a good exit strategy. Maybe it was better that he didn’t get involved with their reunion and leave.

Upon hearing Clark’s voice, the woman’s face suddenly transformed from mischief to cordiality. 

“Oh, how rude of me to ignore you,” she apologized while gesturing a hand to him. “I’m so sorry, Mister?”

Clark immediately accepted her shake and answered the question.

“Kent. Clark Kent.”

“Clark Kent?” the woman exclaimed so animatedly even Clark was startled by the news. 

The woman turned back to Bruce. “Are you _kidding_ me?”

Bruce just answered her with an even sterner glare.

“Wow, I guess dreams really do come true…” she chuckled with another one of her precarious smiles.

“I’m sorry, but I’m so confused right now,” Clark honestly replied.

“Of course you are,” the woman laughed. “That’s just the way Bruce likes things.”

Clark would have sworn he heard a grating sound in Bruce’s direction, but he didn’t dare look back at his expression. He could already feel Bruce’s heated aura and by the triumphant way the woman was looking at Bruce, Clark got the impression that it was only getting worse. 

“So I take it you two know each other, Ms. Kyle?” Clark asked while quickly changing the subject.

“Selina,” she corrected and laughed so sweetly, Clark couldn’t help but smile back. “The name is Selina Kyle. You don’t have to be so formal with me. I’m not as stuffy as Brucie.”

“Brucie?” Clark unconsciously echoed.

Selina let out another burst of laughter. “Oh, I’m sorry. Maybe I _should_ be a little more formal,” her voice dropped back to mischief and she eyed Bruce sideways. “Old habits die hard.”

“What do you want?” Bruce grounded out harshly.

“I just wanted to say hi,” she shrugged as though the answer was obvious. “I mean, considering I never thought I’d see you attending an event like this again and sitting in the lowly commoner’s seats. Aren’t you always the type to hide out in the balcony with the rest of the snobs?”

She drummed her fingers against her lips in a quizzical fashion and smirked back at Clark. “Or maybe it’s just that Mr. Clark Kent here happened to invite you to sit with him tonight?”

Bruce crossed his arms over his chest as if to amplify his reply. “I don’t believe that’s any of your business.”

“No, I suppose not,” she nodded. “At least not anymore…”

Clark wasn’t sure if he was reading too much into it, but he almost thought he heard a bit of regret in between her words.

“Well, then,” she sighed before Clark could ponder on it further. “Don’t let me interfere anymore on your night, gentlemen. Please continue to enjoy the show, though I don’t think many others are going to top that last performance.”

She waved a hand at Clark.

“It was really nice meeting you, Mr. Clark Kent. By the way, I was always a big fan of your writing, though maybe not as much as Bruce.”

“ _Selina_ ,” Bruce warned.

“Haha, okay, okay,” she laughed. Of course she wasn’t going to leave without taking one last jab. “Well, I guess I’ll see you Monday morning, Bruce.”

Clark didn’t want to think about the meaning of her last statement about as much as he didn’t want to watch the woman’s full departure, but somehow he managed to do just both. Selina just had a way of occupying and devastating an entire room with her alluring presence. 

Even after she was well out of sight, Bruce didn’t say anything.

Clark knew Bruce wanted him to speak up first so Bruce could come up with a retaliation rather than an explanation.

“So, maybe we can check out the pianist in the next hall over,” Clark finally mumbled while looking at his program. “He performs in 20-”

“She’s Damian’s instructor,” Bruce suddenly blurted.

“I see…” Clark trailed. Apparently Bruce’s conviction had been too much for him to contain. 

“I mean before that I knew her too, but she’s his instructor now, and that’s why I have a meeting with her on Monday.”

“Okay...”

“But,” Bruce continued to divulge without any pressure from Clark. “Selina and I used to be… _colleagues_ prior to her teaching at Gotham. 

We both actually attended the GSPA together and even performed in the same orchestra in New York for a few years. I was also her accompanist on one or more occasion.”

“Oh, so then you two actually know each other rather well?” Clark asked. Even though he knew he had no right, he couldn’t help but get the question off his chest.

Bruce’s mouth was slightly quirked open into a helpless shape before he pierced his lips firmly together and frowned. “If you want to put it that way.”

“I don’t really want to put it any way if I’m making you feel uncomfortable, Bruce,” Clark answered a bit curtly.

Bruce could tell Clark was bothered because normally he’d let the maestro get away with his evasiveness without any guff. Then again, after what Selina just did, he couldn’t really blame the man.

“The girl who just played, Ms Kitrina Falcone. She’s actually one of Selina’s former students,” Bruce finally replied.

Clark’s expression changed to stunned admiration. “Oh, wow, then it makes sense why you said she was one of the best violin instructors.”

“When did I say that?” Bruce quickly asked.

“Well back when you mentioned Damian coming to the GSPA to train under such a great instructor.”

Bruce went silent again.

Honestly, he was surprised that Clark remembered such an unimportant detail from their past conversation. Maybe he should be more careful about what he told the man. Apparently Clark wasn’t the type to let even the smallest things slip even if he was a bit offish at times.

With a bit of resignation, Bruce started to elaborate 

“Selina is a bit of a… _troublesome_ woman, but I can’t lie about her abilities, both in her capacity as an artist and an instructor, and especially in her ability to handle Damian. The two of them definitely don’t get along, but she is by far one of the few people who can manage to actually instruct him,” Bruce’s brow slightly creased. “No doubt Damian at least recognizes her skills and the fact that she is probably more stubborn than he is…”

“So Damian has a little difficulty with his instructors?” 

“That’s an understatement,” Bruce sighed.

“Well, then I’m glad someone like Ms. Kyle is around to teach him.”

Once again Bruce looked confused and a slight bit startled as he looked back at Clark who was now grinning widely.

“Heh,” Clark chuckled timorously. “I guess I didn’t realize how prestigious the GSPA was, what with all its extraordinary instructors. No wonder it’s more renowned than the schools in Metropolis.”

He smiled directly at Bruce. “I’m so glad Jon was able to attend and was lucky enough to have you as his maestro.”

“Clark…” Bruce murmured before quickly ducking his face out of Clark’s admiring gaze.

Clark felt his grin rise further when he saw the flush behind Bruce's ears. Bruce’s reaction to compliments was something Clark was never going to get tired of seeing and only made him want to poke at the maestro more. 

Then again, maybe Bruce already dealt with enough teasing for the night after what Selina just put him through.

“In any case,” Clark coughed as he decided to give Bruce a free pass. “How about we get to our seats now before this next performance starts?”

***********************************************************

Despite the earlier upset from Selina, Clark somehow managed to recover Bruce’s mood as the evening went on. With a few more playful gestures and blush inducing compliments, the maestro was back to his normal brass, trying to hide his flush cheeks, self. 

And sure they argued several more times that night about the highlights of each performance, Bruce always managing to point out every mistake while Clark highlighted the epitome of every song.

For a while, Clark really did get the impression Bruce just saw music as all business and no pleasure. That is until Clark happened to steal a glance at Bruce right at a performer’s grand finale.

Bruce was sitting at the edge of his seat, fingers tightly clutching the ends of his armrest and wide royals searing with complete consecration for every note he heard. This was not the face of a man who wasn’t moved by the piece. If anything, Bruce was completely attune with the music, so enamored he didn’t even notice Clark’s studying gaze or pleased chuckle as he watched the man become mesmerized by the music.

“What?” Bruce snapped when they finally left the concert hall.

Clark wasn’t acting like his normal self. Usually he would be all giddy and going on about how great the performance was, trying to convince Bruce none of its flaws mattered when compared to all of its heart inducing climaxes. 

Instead, the former composer was just grinning widely and looking at Bruce with a pleased expression.

“Nothing,” Clark shrugged, his lips only edging into an impossibly wider smile.

Bruce wasn’t sure why, but he just got the impression Clark’s dimwitted grin was being directed at him, and as annoying as it should have been, Bruce was more upset at himself for feeling embarrassed than irritated by it.

“Well, well, well,” a mock voice sang behind them. “I thought you skipped out again this year when I didn’t see you in your seat. Imagine my surprise to find out it was just because you snuck into the mezzanine area instead.”

Clark recognized this voice. “Dick?”

The young man’s eyes lit up like Christmas. “CLARK!” he gasped out. “Is that really you?”

As if it were a perfectly timed and coordinated meeting, both men were suddenly embracing each other like two long lost friends.

“It’s been such a long time!” Dick breathed out excitedly. 

“Yes it has!” Clark agreed with just as much enthusiasm.

Bruce watched in unmoved silence trying to figure out which one of them had the bigger grin. It was at that moment Dick caught eyes with the steely maestro. 

He pointed in stunned shock. “Don’t tell me you two are here together?” 

“Yes, we are,” Clark answered without thinking.

“Really now…” Dick hummed before giving Bruce a perceptive smile. “Isn’t the world just full of surprises?”

Bruce narrowed his eyes onto the young man.

“Well, Bruce is actually my son’s instructor,” Clark explained while not at all noticing the glances Dick and Bruce were exchanging.

This news actually occupied Dick’s interest more than his need to challenge Bruce’s glare.

“You have a son now?” he asked while turning his attention back to Clark.

“Yes.”

“That’s great!” Dick beamed. “Congratulations!”

“Thanks!”

“And of course he plays the piano,” Dick nodded knowingly. “I wonder what kind of masterpieces you’ve written for him?”

Clark’s smile wavered. “Oh, umm…”

Noticing Clark’s uneasiness, Bruce finally cut in. “You two seem rather chummy.”

“Well, I guess we are a bit,” Dick smiled proudly. “Considering how extensive Clark’s interview was.”

Bruce unconsciously tilted his head. “Interview?”

“Well, remember when Clark wrote that piece for me?” Dick asked before elaborating. “Before he even started we met quite a few times. Clark asked me a lot of questions about myself and even listened to me play in person and attended several of my performances.”

“Really?” Bruce’s gaze slightly grazed Clark’s form before going back to Dick. “I didn’t realize his process was so… _extensive_.

“Well, yeah,” Dick shrugged. “I mean, Clark is the magician who writes music unique to each player. I’m sure he listened to me play quite a bit before writing my song, but also, he took the time to get to really know me, and I think that’s why he was able to put me down on paper so well.”

“Uhh, well, that is a big part of it,” Clark finally intervened. 

Dick looked at him curiously. “And the other?”

“Well,” Clark’s eyes slowly drifted shut, and he brought a hand over his chest in a reminiscent manner. “Sometimes there are so many songs stuck inside my head, but I just can’t really feel them come alive until I find that special person that fits the piece just right.”

Bruce felt an ache in his chest when he saw the man’s expression. As though Clark was recalling every piece he ever wrote, there was warmth and radiance surrounding him and a smile Bruce had never seen before.

Clark blinked his eyes back open, and in an instant the spell gripping Bruce’s heart was broken.

“So I guess…” Clark chuckled with a slightly guilty expression. “Maybe part of why I write is a little bit of my own selfish desire to hear my music come alive by talented artist like you who can truly breathe life into them.”

“Wow,” Dick swooned. Bruce wasn’t the only who’d been moved by Clark’s words and expression. “Clark, you’re always so flattering.”

Dick brought a hand to his mouth and could feel the heat from his cheeks against his palm.

“I still find myself playing the song you wrote for me not just in concerts but at home for myself. I even have the original copy hanging on my wall.”

“Heh,” Clark chuckled with embarrassment at the praise. “And you call me the flatterer?”

After that, an awkward silence followed, neither man exactly sure how to deal with each other’s compliments.

Quickly Dick tried to find a diversion before noticing a slightly perturbed Bruce.

“So I guess you’re the reason Bruce finally decided to come to this festival and not me?” 

Considering the question, one would have thought Dick would look disappointed, but instead he seemed strangely amused. “I mean I suppose that makes sense considering he probably intentionally didn’t come on any of the nights I or any of his former students would be performing.”

“What?” Clark blurted while looking back a Bruce with question.

“Of course I would lose to someone like you, Clark,” Dick added under his breath.

Bruce’s scowl was even more prominent than before. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“So then you didn’t come because Clark invited you?” Dick countered.

Bruce’s lips pressed together tightly, and he didn’t answer.

Realizing Bruce had no intention on replying, Dick just smirked at the maestro devilishly before directing his attention back onto Clark.

“You know Clark, Bruce is actually one of your biggest fans.”

“Yes, I already informed him of this fact,” Bruce immediately responded.

Dick’s voice slightly broke from shock. “You did?” 

Something sparked in his eyes for a moment before his smile reformed.

“Did he also tell you the part about how he has copies of all your music and tried playing them all at least once-”

“DICK!” Bruce thundered though his panic rung louder than he hoped.

“Opps,” Dick snickered with a guiltless smile. “I guess he didn’t.”

Dick backed away from Clark the moment he noticed Bruce storming between them.

He threw his hands up in surrender and chuckled out. “Well, I’m glad the two of you were finally able to meet and become friends. “

“And what makes you so sure that we are?” Bruce huffed angrily.

“Well, I don’t think it’s typical for two guys who aren’t friends of…” he looked the two men up and down before finishing. “ _Some sort_ , to just meet up like this solely because you happen to instruct his kid.”

Both Clark and Bruce didn’t reply but they seemed a bit shaken by Dick’s words. Sure the two of them were actually friends now but the way Dick put it, the connection that led to their relationship suddenly made less sense.

“But I guess it’s really fitting that things turned out this way,” Dick chimed as he caught their attention again.

Dick gestured his hands as though he were whispering towards Clark, but the fact that Bruce was standing between them, it was obvious he didn’t care if the maestro heard him. “You know, Clark. I really did try to encourage Bruce to request you to write a song for him considering how much of a fan he was. I think I was pretty close to convincing him too, but then you suddenly retired before he could ask…”

Clark’s eyes widened. “What? Really?!”

Bruce’s nostrils flared and just as he started to open his mouth, he was suddenly interrupted by a chorus of squeals.

“It’s him! IT’S MASTER GRAYSON!”

A gaggle of girls with start struck eyes suddenly came stampeding in their direction. 

“Grayson! Grayson! Over here!”

The look of relief on Dick’s face was evidence of the fact that he knew he’d just been saved from Bruce’s fury.

“Oh, I think those are my adoring fans calling,” he pointed while purposely avoiding Bruce’s glare.

Dick’s voice suddenly softened and his typically playful features faded to an longing gaze. “Bruce, I’m really glad I got to see you again, even if you didn’t come to hear me play. I really do miss you, maestro.”

“Dick…” Clark mumbled as he noticed the clear sincerity in the young man’s eyes.

Dick nervously brushed his bangs behind his ears and let out a deflated laugh. “Honestly I’m so jealous Babs was the one who ended up accompanying Damian. I bet that little brat intentionally picked her over me,” he swallowed hard, and then looked at Bruce with a bit of desperation. “Or was it you who made that choice?”

Bruce’s cold gaze slightly faltered. “Dick…” he lowered his eyes so they were covered by the shadows hanging over his face. “Continue to do well for yourself.”

Dick’s face twisted. “Bruce-”

The maestro took a step back and suddenly the group of girls coming for Dick pushed the two of them completely apart.

“GRAYSON! Would you please sign my program?” one of them pleaded.

“No, sign my shirt!” another one shrieked.

Dick gave Bruce one last helpless glance, but by then the maestro already had his back to him and was leaving the hall.

Clark felt his hands ball up into a fist. _‘Bruce…’_

He wanted to give Dick a proper farewell, but at the moment the young musician seemed too overwhelmed by his fans. Instead he just gave him a silent wave and then quickened his steps so he could catch up with Bruce.

“This is why I knew it was a mistake to attend this festival,” Bruce growled as he stormed out of the arena. “There are just too many past _acquaintances_ here…”

The clench in Clark’s hands tightened and he knew he could no longer hold back his words. “Acquaintances?! Bruce why are you being so cold?”

“Cold?” Bruce snorted. “How so?”

“Well, for one thing, acting so standoffish towards one of your former students who obviously adores you, and then intentionally picking a night to attend the festival when none of your former students would be performing. As if you’re trying to avoid all of them. I mean, don’t you think it would be encouraging for them to see their former instructor cheering them on?”

“Clark…” Bruce gritted with a shaky voice. He then took a moment to collect himself before continuing in an even calmer tone. “I was just their instructor and nothing more. I’d rather not get involved with any of them beyond that. They don’t need me to encourage them in order for them to succeed.”

Clark let out a tick of disapproval. “See, sometimes I just can’t seem to figure you out, Bruce.

You say you hate the piano, but your whole life revolves around it because you told me it’s your duty to pass on the torch, but then you turn around and say things like this!”

Clark’s voice started to rise and he knew a flood of pent up grievances were finally surfacing.

“And don’t get me started on the day that we first met, and how you railed into your student just because she wasn’t playing things completely by the book.

You and I both know playing music isn’t just about the mechanics it’s also about the heart of the music too. Just because you fell out love with it doesn’t mean everyone else has!”

“Yes, I understand that,” Bruce snarled. “I understand that very well. And that’s why…” his growl started to wane. “Despite everything that’s happened to me, I continue to teach because…” Bruce stopped walking and looked at the ground. “Regardless of how much someone loves the music or how talented they are, the fundamentals are still important…”

Now all the venom was out of his voice.

“So when they finally do get to play the music that they love…” Bruce sighed and looked up at Clark. “Not a bit of that passion and adoration will be held back by their physical limitations.”

Clark felt himself gasp but knew all the air had already been knocked out of his chest by Bruce’s heart stopping gaze.

The maestro’s eyes variegated between pain and hope like a man struggling not to give up on a dream he’d already lost but kept forcing himself to move on for the sake of everyone else. The words cut at Clark in a way he wish he didn’t understand, but he knew too well what it meant to keep moving after already being defeated.

“By the time they are finished with my instruction,” Bruce continued to lament. “Their very minds and even the muscles in their fingers will have memorized everything I’ve taught them so it will all be as second nature to them and an extension of every piano that they touch.

Then the only thing they need focus on is playing what’s in their heats, restricted solely by their own souls and imagination.”

“Bruce…” Clark somehow managed to murmur despite not having a single breath left in him.

Bruce smiled back at Clark but it was more out of acknowledgement with no warmth behind it.

“Beyond that,” he finished. “There’s nothing else I can teach them because anything else is beyond my own capabilities, and that’s why by the time they leave my instruction…there’s nothing left that I can do for them. My part in their life is over. I’m just another instrument on their path to greatness, and that’s all I care to be.”

Clark couldn’t bear Bruce’s pitiful expression and instead took to looking at his feet.

“Bruce…” he started with a voice he almost wasn’t sure could be heard. “I’m sorry. Once again I misjudged you. I thought you were being cold, but in actuality,” he lifted his eyes back to meet Bruce’s darkening azures and asked. “You care deeply about all your students, don’t you?”

Bruce didn’t reply, but Clark didn’t need to hear him to know the answer both men already knew.

Clark smiled at Bruce fondly, and if by magic, the ice started to melt from behind the maestro’s eyes. “I knew I was right about my first hunch. That underneath that cold exterior is a deep thoughtful guy.”

Though his mouth was still fixed into a very distinct frown, Clark could see the life returning to Bruce’s stance. “Continue to believe whatever you want.”

“I will,” Clark smirked proudly. “And the more time we spend together, the better I’ll get to know you.”

“Quite frankly, the more I come to know you the larger the ache in my head becomes,” Bruce sighed while griping the sides of his temples. “So I really don’t understand what your infatuation is with knowing me.”

“Haha,” Clark laughed out. “Well, that’s just because I…” his smile started to fade. “Well I…” something strange took his features and he wrinkled his nose. “I just want…” 

His expression returned and he finished his thought with a knowing smile. “Well, I just want to be better friends.”

“Mmm,” Bruce hummed with a wry grimace. “I suppose that’s fine. Since you don’t know anyone else, but I’m sure once you meet someone more to your liking you’ll finally get tired of m-”

“No Bruce!” Clark exploded as he suddenly snatched Bruce up by the wrist. “That would never happen!”

Bruce’s eyes went wide and startled by Clark’s unexpected physical action. “Clark?”

The taller man didn’t answer and just stared in silence at the hand he was firmly gripping.

Bruce spoke out softly. “Clark…” 

As if he’d been called out of a trance, Clark instantly recoiled his hand and blushed fiercely.

“Bruce,” he started to apologize. “I’m sorry, I-” 

“The next performance will be starting soon so we need to be in our seats,” Bruce replied evenly before turning his back to the man and walking away.

“Ah, r-right…” Clark stammered while following behind. He wasn’t exactly sure what had gotten into him but decided in the end it was best not to push his thoughts into places he shouldn’t go.

To Be Continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm, so I guess big bad Maestro Wayne isn't as cold as he seems.
> 
> Well, that was Bruce and Clark’s ‘almost’ date that was continuously interrupted by Bruce’s past. It’s okay, I’ll make it up to them both later, and also getting to add Dick to any story is always a joy. He doesn’t have a big role, but he’s going to help the story move along and also it’s nice to have someone around who can work Bruce over like him.
> 
> Speaking of which, this is my first time ever writing Selina so I hope I do her justice. Just like Lois, I also like Selina, so don’t expect her to be as antagonistic as she seems right now. She’s just another blast from Bruce’s past that will help us all get a better glimpse into it, plus I like when Bruce and Clark have others rooting and helping them along their way ;)
> 
> So at this point I guess everyone is starting to notice some obvious things about Bruce and Clark and how they really feel about each other (Clark is in denial and Bruce is, well, Bruce), and if it’s not apparent now, it will be in a few more chapters. I just have one more big event I have to get out of the way, and then I can finally work in some romance ;)
> 
> With that being said, I remember saying I was considering bumping the rating of this fic, though for those who’ve been reading it all this time under this rating, I wonder if turning this story explicit would be a turn off?
> 
> In any case, thanks again everyone for all the great support, and I hope you continue to enjoy it to the end!
> 
> As for the title of the chapter, this time I was inspired by Camille Saint-Saëns “Introduction and Rondo Capriccioso” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CZI2bX-E0WY
> 
> This song reminds me of Clark and Bruce’s relationship (now and later into the story) for a lot of reasons, but I remember once reading a review of the piece and the commentator described it perfectly: Beginning with a pleading lament from the violin, the mood quickly changes to the sardonic, almost taunting first theme of the virtuosic rondo, as if to say "catch me if you can!" Honestly this idea just captures their relationship on so many levels and I couldn’t resist having an excuse to insert it into this fic ;)


	12. Chaconne

“So do you want to go?” 

The older boy didn’t reply. Instead he just continued to look at the envelope in his hands pretending not to notice the two pleading eyes that always somehow managed to bore straight through to his resolve.

“My dad said he’ll drop us off,” Jon continued to urge. “I mean, if you don’t want to go with me, its fine. Regardless, this ticket is still for you.” 

Damian didn’t miss the bit of disparity in Jon’s voice. Of course Jon wasn’t the type to say things he didn’t mean, but it still didn’t change the fact that he probably regretted giving Damian the ulterior option.

Of course, this was probably the most obvious choice. It certainly would be less complicated if Damian just went on his own, like he usually did. Then again…

“I was planning on attending despite your invite…”

Damian didn’t exactly say he would go with him. Jon could have taken the words any way. Damian wasn’t surprised though that his junior would translate them into something optimistic. 

Those same penetrating azures lit up with anticipation and his voice became more hopeful. “Well, I was planning on going this Friday night,”

“As was I,” Damian affirmed. 

Jon’s eyes were sparkling. “Really?!” 

For some reason, Damian felt his face slightly heat at the boy’s bright expression. No doubt it was some kind of side effect from all of Jon’s unnecessary excitement. Quickly Damian began to explain himself in hopes that the boy would settle down and stop working his nerves.

“But only because I have to check out my future competition. Quite a few well know violinist will be performing that night.”

“Okay,” Jon smiled his face not at all dampened by Damian’s words.

“And I guess going with you will be more convenient. Then I don’t have to worry about trying to procure a ride.” 

Damian made sure to clarify this so Jon would know this was all a matter of convenience.

“Yeah,” Jon nodded and then hesitantly added. “And when we get there, you don’t have to hang out with me if you don’t want to...”

This was probably Damian’s final chance to gracefully spurn him, and what Jon was probably expecting it. The obvious way he was trying not to look at Damian was evidence of the fact. Of course, Damian wouldn’t give the boy the satisfaction of being right. Damian Al Ghul was not so easy to read.

“That’s ridiculous, Kent,” he snorted. “Our seats will be right next to each other.” 

Jon’s grin was now taking up the entirety of his face. He’d been so afraid he was getting his hopes up about Damian actually wanting spend the night with him. That’s why he offered Damian so many options to back out. The fact that Damian didn’t take them must mean he was actually interested in going to the concert together.

“Speaking of which…” Damian mumbled while examining the envelope in his hands. “How on earth did a salaryman such as your father manage these seats? They have been sold out since before tickets went on sale!”

“Oh! Well, it’s because Mae…” Jon suddenly caught himself. “My dad has a _friend_ who gave them to him...”

Jon felt slightly guilty. Sure he didn’t exactly lie, but at the same time he kept a very important detail from Damian. Then again, for some reason Jon got the impression if Damian knew the tickets were from his dad, he would change his mind about going.

Admittedly, Jon was a bit disappointed that Damian always seemed upset whenever Jon mentioned Maestro Wayne. How could a boy harbor so much animosity towards his own father? As far as Jon was concerned, Maestro Wayne was one of the best men he’d ever known, well second only to his own dad.

Sure he was a bit intimidating at times, but deep down Jon knew his maestro was a very steadfast man, who was passionate about everything he did, and pushed others to be their very best. Even when they didn’t believe in themselves, Maestro Wayne had a way of finding a person’s true worth and bringing it to light, polishing it till it shined with skill and confidence. If only Damian could learn to understand this.

_‘I wonder how much more he could make you shine?’_

“Your dad has a connection like this?” Damian asked while pulling Jon from his thoughts.

He then brought a thoughtful hand to his chin and mumbled more to himself. “I suppose even despite his abandonment of the industry a man like him would still hold a few connections.”

“My dad didn’t abandon anything!” Jon angrily shouted. His eyes then widened and turned almost as white as Damian’s face. “I mean…” Jon ducked his head in shame. “He just…”

Damian seemed even more mortified than Jon, though it was less from his outburst and more due to realizing his own folly. “I…” Damian started. “Fine, whatever,” he ticked while handing the envelope back to Jon. “In any case, I appreciate the offer and your father…”

“For the tickets and ride!” Damian immediately explained. He then muttered under his breath before leaving. “I’ll be sure to attend.” 

Jon wasn’t sure what to make of Damian’s reply. Sure he felt bad for yelling at him, but at the same time he was also happy that Damian finally accepted his offer directly.

**************************************************

“Wow, she was amazing!” Jon breathed out in awe.

It was only the first performance they heard that night, but Jon could already tell the participants who were invited to play were on a completely different level. 

“Yes,” Damian agreed. “She will be quite the formidable opponent.”

“Huh?”

Even though Damian didn’t bother looking at him, he was quick to answer Jon’s curious gaze.

“She and I, we’ll both be competing in the same competition this year. Last year I was too young to participate, but this year I finally made the cut off and I intend to remove her title as reigning champion.”

Jon smiled as he watched Damian. If the boy swelled up his chest any further, he might actually explode, and that thought alone nearly had Jon laughing. Then again, Jon would be lying if he didn’t say he kind of admired Damian’s confidence. 

At the beginning, Jon thought it was annoying and saw Damian as a little stuck up, and maybe some of those impressions were actually true, but at the same time, Jon knew Damian had many reasons for acting this way. 

First of all, he had the skill to back up his boasts, but only because he actually worked hard to get to where he was as a musician. Day and night the boy practiced, and Jon couldn’t think of many times he saw Damian without his violin in his hand.

Then again, because of this fact, Damian had very little time to actually socialize with children his own age, and he didn’t really seem to understand how to interact with others very well. As skilled as he was with the strings, Damian had no clue when it came to doing much else. That’s why whenever he felt he was straying into foreign waters, he would react defensively in order to protect the thin shell of intimidation he tried so hard to carry.

It really amazed Jon how strong and fragile one person could be. Then again, he understood all too well what it felt like to not fit into society just right. That’s why he knew deep down Damian was a lot different than he seemed. 

Usually Jon’s own defense mechanism was to laugh everything off, and even though his methods were different, it still didn’t make him any better. He was just another outcast trying to hide under a different kind of face.

So as much as Jon admired Damian, and wished for even half the confidence in his own abilities, he still felt like he understood him well, and that’s why he knew the boy was someone he wanted to get closer to. Then maybe Damian would finally let up on his defenses, and allow Jon to see the real soul hiding under all that armor, and from the few glimpses he’d already seen, Jon knew he was already captivated by him.

“Oh I bet you will beat her,” Jon finally replied. “I mean, she was really good, but you’re even better.”

Damian let out a snort but his chest puffed up even more at the praise.

“And how would you know that?” he asked with feint annoyance. 

Jon paled. There was no way he could tell Damian he still snuck in on his private practices at the clearing where they found Robin. 

“Umm…” Jon stumbled. “Well I do hear you practicing every night before bed…”

Once again, it wasn’t a lie, but still…

“Ttt,” Damian ticked. “That’s just me practicing. It’s hardly any indication of my true capabilities,” he finally turned to face Jon and glared at him as though he were challenging him.

“Come to my performance next week. Then you will understand the true extent of my abilities.”

Once again Jon’s eyes radiated his full blue excitement. “Really? You’re inviting me to your next concert?”

Damian hadn’t been prepared for this honest and glowing response. Quickly he shielded his eyes from the gaze that made his stomach flip.

“Well…that is…” he mumbled. For some reason he couldn’t collect his words just right. “How else will you truly be able to assess my abilities?” he finally managed to blunder out.

“I’ll be there for sure!” Jon beamed before his expression suddenly fell. “Oh, but I bet all the seats are sold out by now…”

“You can have my house seats,” Damian offered while still avoiding Jon’s eyes. He just couldn’t trust to look at them considering he never had any idea what Jon would do next.

“Feel free to invite your father too. It’s the least I can do considering the tickets he provided us tonight…”

“Of course!” Jon exclaimed excitedly. “Thanks Damian!”

“You haven’t even heard me play yet. What’s the point in being excited now?” Damian snapped, though his furious blush and stumbling words didn’t relay a bit of his frustration. 

“Well, I just look forward to hearing you,” Jon smiled.

“Ttt,” was all Damian manage to spit back, and even that didn’t sound as irate as he liked.

“But for now,” Jon sung contently while lifting up his program and looking at the title of the next act in reverence. “I REALLY look forward to hearing one of my all-time favorite pianists!” 

Damian suddenly felt a new form of irritation, but there was no way anyone should mistake it for jealousy. 

“And who might that be?” he asked while crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Master Grayson!” Jon triumphed. 

Damian’s jaw nearly dropped. “What?!”

“He’s the whole reason I even wanted to attend the GSPA,” Jon exclaimed while his eyes began to gloss over from a wave of fond memories.

“One day, back when I first started to play, I heard a recording of him performing a song my dad wrote him. I was an instant fan after that!”

Jon hugged his program to his chest while closing his eyes and sighing out. “To go to the same school as him, learn under the same instructor, and play under the same roof is a dream come true!”

“I can’t believe this!” Damian cursed while growling out loudly. “That showboating theatrical grandstander is the one you look up to? Dick Grayson is-”

“Standing right behind you.”

“Yes,” Damian nodded to the voice that interrupted him. “He is…standing right behind me?”

The boy turned around and blinked with confusion at the older man hovering over him waving with a cheeky grin. “Hey Damian.”

Damian’s mouth started to quiver when he recognized the inner loafer but before he could say anything, Jon was erupting.

“MASTER GRAYSON! It’s really you!” 

Dick looked at the trembling boy who looked ready to burst from excitement and chuckled.

“Well, what an enthusiastic friend you have, Dami.”

Jon’s face went red and he ducked his head with embarrassment and mumbled. “Oh, im so sorry, I just….”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Dick assured while gesturing an encouraging hand at the boy. “It’s always nice to meet a fan.”

Dick silently laughed when he saw Jon’s wide pleading eyes grow even larger. He then noticed the program in Jon’s shaky hands and easily connected the dots.

“Did you want me to sign your-”

“YES PLEASE!” Jon shouted before Dick could barely form his question.

Dick chuckled and happily complied. “Well now Damian, you certainly have a cute little friend.”

At this point, Damian was seething, though he wasn’t sure if he was more upset at Dick’s intrusion or Jon’s fanatical behavior. Then again, why should he care if Jon had such poor taste in music?

“He is my roommate and one of father’s latest students,” Damian snorted.

Dick’s interest was even more piqued.

“Really now?” he hummed. “One of Bruce’s students…”

A sly smile took his lips.

“Though I wonder is it typical for roommates who aren’t friends of…” he looked the boys up down and reveled in the irony, “ _some sort_ to hang out?”

Damian knew what Dick was implying but was already out of patience.

“What do you want Grayson?” 

“So _friend_ of Damian,” Dick asked while completely ignoring him. “Since Damian is too rude to introduce us. Do you have a name?”

All of Jon’s earlier excitement had finally been replaced by his normal senses. Even though Dick seemed really friendly, Jon felt completely intimidated by his idol.

“Oh yeah,” the boy mumbled just barely above a whisper. “My name is Jon…Jonathan Lane Kent.”

“Kent?!” Dick blurted.

Both Damian and Jon looked at him with confusion, and Dick realized he sounded more startled than he intended.

His smile deepened, and he muttered more to himself. “Well, isn’t the world just full of the best coincidences?”

Jon quirked his head. He didn’t hear what Dick said and even though Damian did, he still seemed lost by his words.

Dick just shook his head and triumphed. “I knew it was going to be a treat to play in Gotham again. This city never disappoints!”

He clapped his hands together and went back to addressing the boys.

“So Damian, how are you and Babs holdin’ up?”

Damian’s nose wrinkled at the question. “Gordon was hired on with the orchestra in Vienna. She is no longer my accompanist.”

“Really? That’s great! I’m so happy for her,” Dick congratulated before his smile suddenly faded. “So who’s filling in for her now? Don’t tell me, Tim-”

“I’d rather perform both parts at the same time than work with him!” Damian snarled back venomously. 

“So you don’t have an accompanist”

Damian didn’t reply and just glared.

Dick cooed out in a sugary voice that was too haughty to be called sweet. “Well, if you ask nicely, maybe I-”

“Aren’t you currently preoccupied with your tour this year?” Damian snapped.

Dick’s face fell. “Well, yeah...but” Suddenly he tackled Damian with a tight embrace and started to poke his cheek. “I sure wouldn’t mind helping out my favorite _little_ violinist.” 

Damian’s cheeks were bright red, and he was trying with all his might to push Dick away.

“I don’t need your kind of help Grayson!”

“Seriously Damian, why do you always have to be so grumpy?” Dick whined before a hard elbow met him in the face.

“He’s just like Bruce, isn’t he?” Dick grumbled while rubbing his nose and sulking over towards Jon.

Jon wasn’t sure how to react to Dick and Damian’s interaction. He never expected his idol to act in such a way and at the same time he’d never seen Damian so rattled before. In the end, he only managed to answer back with a very wary, “Well, actually…yeah…”

Dick’s grin widened and he leaned in and whispered _loudly_. “But Damian’s much smaller and cuter. Then again they’re both sensitive soft-”

“Don’t you have a performance starting soon!” Damian shouted angrily. “Or do you intend to disappoint my roommate by wasting your time babbling instead of doing what you came here for tonight?”

Dick’s face whitened. “Eh…” he looked at the big clock behind them and then at his watch. 

“I hate to admit it when you’re right, especially since I know you’re just trying to run me off, but, I guess I do need to get going.”

He gave Damian one last doting smile and winked.

“Well, now that I know you’re here tonight cheering me on, I’ll make tonight’s performance extra special just for you.”

Damian’s face turned a deeper shade of crimson. “Th-that’s not necessary. If not for Kent, I wouldn’t even be attending!”

“Oh, then I owe you one, Jon,” Dick smiled as he waved at the other boy. “Well, hope to see you two later and please enjoy.”

A long silence followed well after Dick’s departure. 

Damian was still glaring in the direction that he left, and Jon wasn’t sure what he should say.

“Wow,” he finally exhaled. “I didn’t realize you two were so close…”

“We aren’t,” Damian snapped. “It’s just that, when I first came to Gotham it was over the summer before school started, and I didn’t have an accompanist. However, I had a competition in line, so father asked Grayson to accompany me.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t just play with your dad,” Jon mumbled without thinking.

“My dad doesn’t’ play,” Damian answered back with even more bite. 

“Oh…”

“Also, he said Grayson would be a better match.”

“Was he?”

Damian’s face twisted with annoyance. “Only because the braggart was always trying to outshine me, and I just felt the need to put him in his place.”

“In other words, he pushed you to do better?”

Damian didn’t answer and just looked even more uncomfortable.

“In any case,” he sighed while completely glossing over Jon’s question. “Grayson is busy with his tours, so he couldn’t take the position permanently.”

“That’s just amazing though,” Jon extoled. “The fact that you two got to play together. What I wouldn’t have given to hear it…”

Damian let out a haughty scoff. “I perform much better now, so you’ll hear something even more superb next week.”

Jon smiled at Damian eagerly. “I really look forward to it!”

“Ttt,” the boy snorted, though he did feel a bit of his mood return at Jon’s acclaim. “Then keep your expectations high, Kent. I will more than surpass them all.”

****************************************************

He arrived early. Whenever he came to pick Jon up for an appointment, he usually showed up early in hopes that he could catch one of his son’s practice sessions.

On this particular day though, he knew Jon was attending a regular class, so this time Clark’s motives were a little more ulterior than usual.

It was Thursday, the only day Bruce didn’t have any classes or practices after noon. Of course, the man would still be in his office. No doubt working on a lesson plan or organizing the piles of music he never threw away. In addition to being the head piano instructor, Bruce also taught a music theory class and a classic history course.

The man was completely dedicated to his work and sometimes Clark really wondered if Bruce did anything else with his life besides hang around his office. Whenever Clark asked the man out, Bruce always seemed available, and even if he usually complained about being busy, he typically let Clark convince him away. Because of this fact, Clark found himself arriving earlier and earlier, taking any excuse he could find to spend more time with the maestro. 

He hadn’t seen Bruce since the night they attended the music festival together. Honestly, things had ended on a quiet somewhat low note. Clark hadn’t quite felt himself that night either. Maybe he’d been out of line with some of the things he told Bruce, but also there was something he couldn’t quite place bothering him.

In the end, Clark decided he would treat Bruce to lunch as penitence. 

“Well, hello again Mr. Clark Kent,” a playful voice purred out.

The words were like honey and made Clark’s spine tingle in a way he wasn’t used to.

“Oh, Ms. Kyle,” Clark replied back nervously.

“Selina,” she corrected.

He finally turned to meet her eyes. Much like Bruce, they were soul piercing, but evoked entirely different feelings out of him. Whereas Bruce’s gaze was mesmerizing due to sheer beauty and intimidation, Selina’s eyes felt more fierce and hungry, always leaving Clark feeling a little violated as if everything she viewed was transparent.

He could tell she sensed his uneasiness. The way she was smiling made it clear.

“So are you here to see Bruce?” she asked.

“I’m here to pick up my son for an appointment,” he answered. 

Okay, maybe she’d been right about her first query, but what he said to her wasn’t exactly a lie either.

“Oh?” intrigue flashed in her eyes. “You have a son who attends here?” 

She brushed a contemplative finger to her lips. “Well, that makes more sense…”

“Huh?” Clark unconsciously responded.

She smiled back at him and answered. “The reason I’ve seen you skulking around these halls so often like a little lost puppy.”

“Oh yeah,” Clark chuckled sheepishly. “This school is so big I still can’t seem to find my way around here very well.”

Selina took a step closer. “I can help you find your way.”

“Uhhh,” Clark stumbled while taking a step back but finding his back suddenly against a wall. “So you’ve noticed me before?” he hastily asked.

Selina’s eyes took in Clark’s full form before settling back on his paling face. “Of course,” she trilled. “What woman with eyes wouldn’t notice a good looking guy like you passing by her office so often?”

She moved in even closer, and Clark had nowhere else to run. 

“Umm…Ms. Kyle,” Clark blathered as he felt her breath touch his neck when she leaned in.

“Selina,” she crooned back.

Her fingers started to trace up the material of his sleeve.

“Selina…I…” Clark stammered wanting desperately to adjust his sliding frames but fearing what would happen if he moved.

There was a snort, and then a snicker, and then suddenly Selina was bursting into laughter.

All the tension immediately left Clark’s body when the woman finally pulled away.

“Mr. Kent. I’m just teasing you,” she gasped between a laugh. “Wow, you’re just so cute and easy to rile. No wonder Bruce has his eye on you. Don’t worry though, she assured. “I wouldn’t dare step even a toe on Bruce’s territory.”

Clark’s eyes went wide. “Wha-what?!” He gasped while waving his hands fervently at her. “No, it’s not like that at all! We’re just friends!”

“Bruce doesn’t do _friends_ ,” Selina replied back sharply. “He doesn’t play nice with others.”

Clark was without words and not sure what to say. Suddenly Selina’s entire demeanor had gone from light to frank, nothing at all like her normal playful air.

She shook her head and smirked knowingly. “Mr. Kent, you seem like a really nice guy. So let me give you a word of advice. Bruce is prickly for reason and doesn’t like it when people get too _involved_.”

“And how would you know that?” Clark asked with a bit of offense.

“Because once upon a time, Bruce and I were awfully _close_ too.”

Clark’s expression didn’t change at her revelation. 

“You don’t seem surprised.”

“Well, I just got that impression…” Clark answered back evenly.

She let out an amused sound. Maybe Clark wasn’t the pushover she first imagined. 

“We used to have a lot of fun together, back when we were just kids.”

She paused and waited. When Clark didn’t react, she let out a sigh and her voice turned more serious.

“Don’t take it the wrong way. Bruce always wants what he can’t have, and he knew what we were doing wasn’t ever going anywhere, especially considering he was betrothed to that Al Ghul woman. 

Of course, I was just fine with this too, considering I’m the type of woman who wants to get her hands on everything shiny,” her eyes slightly dimmed. “But the moment it becomes mine, suddenly it doesn’t sparkle the same…”

Clark didn’t know Selina well enough to precisely read her expression. Her actions were far too dramatic for him to understand, then again, he recognized the sound of regret when he heard it. 

He tried to think of something comforting to say, but in an instant Selina was shrugging her shoulders and smiling impishly.

“I guess Bruce and I always had that in common. Wanting to chase after the hard to obtain, that’s why we worked so well…at least at the beginning.”

“Selina, why are you telling me all of this?” Clark simply asked. Maybe being direct with the woman would finally get her to the point.

“Because you’re dazzling, Clark.”

Once again Clark wasn’t able to respond. Was she joking? What exactly did she mean?

Selina laughed at Clark’s dumbstruck face and continued to explain.

“Don’t get me wrong, Bruce and I have our similarities, but we aren’t the same.

Whereas I want to snatch everything up and muddy it, Bruce is just fine with admiring from the other side of the glass…” her voice softened. “Because he’s afraid, and that’s why…” Her eyes narrowed. “When things start to get serious, when people start to get close, he’ll run away, because that’s the only way he knows how to protect himself…and them. Then again…” her artful smile returned and she looked back at Clark. “Maybe you’ll be the exception? At least I hope so.”

Clark wanted to answer, but didn’t know how. Selina just laughed at his confusion and sighed. “Nice guys like Bruce deserve to be happy, don’t you think?”

Finally Clark could reply with resolution. “I do.”

Selina chuckled again though this time with more warmth. “Well then, Clark,” she waved before sauntering away. “Good luck with that.”

***********************************************************

“Bruce?”

Even from this position, Clark recognized the broad back and confident walk. It was part of the reason the maestro always seemed to take command of every room, well, that and his striking blue eyes.

Bruce turned to the voice. His expression barely changed, just a slight quirk of a smirk, but the way his brilliant royals lit up, Clark got the impression he was just as happy to see him as Clark was to see Bruce. At least, that’s what he wanted to believe.

“Clark. Mr. Kent,” Bruce nodded as he acknowledged the father and son duo.

It was the night of Damian’s performance, and it was all Jon could talk about until they finally made it to the theater. Truthfully, Clark was also quite curious to hear the boy play. Especially considering all the praise his son usually gave the violinist, claiming he was one of the best at their school.

“I take it you’re here tonight to hear Damian play?” Clark asked.

Bruce's face changed to something soft yet discomforting. “Yes…actually I attend all his performances…”

“That’s great!” Clark commended. “I hear from Jon he’s a pretty talented violinist.”

Bruce smiled but there was sincerity behind it Clark had never seen before. “Yes, he is. No doubt a skill he inherited from his mother…”

Clark was rendered speechless by Bruce’s earnest expression and unaware that he was staring at him a little too intensely. 

Bruce felt the penetrating eyes and was quick to change the subject. “Where will you two be sitting?”

Clark woke from his captivation. “Oh!” he blurted as he realized how rude he was being. “We managed house seats, thanks to Damian.”

Bruce let out a thoughtful hum before replying. “Would the two of you perhaps like to sit with me in the owner’s box? There’s plenty of room and the sound quality is completely different from the floor.”

A strangled squeal of excitement sounded from below them.

Up until this point, Jon had just been taking in his father and maestro’s surprisingly familiar repertoire in silent wonderment. Had the two of them always been this friendly? 

Despite the pleading tug at his sleeve, Clark still maintained his bearings. “It won’t be too much trouble, Maestro?”

“No,” Bruce nodded before suddenly smirking at Clark with a wry eye. “I know the owner rather well.” 

Clark’s own grin formed. “Let me guess. The owner is someone I know pretty well?”

Bruce just let out a small laugh and shrugged.

“See Bruce,” Clark jeered. “I think I’m starting to catch onto your _unique_ sense of humor.”

“Yes,” Bruce chuckled. “It’s the basis of our entire friendship.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?!” Clark snapped, but by then Bruce was ignoring the man and herding Jon towards the stairs.

“Alright, Mr. Kent, if you come right this way.”

Clark wanted to be made at the jab but honestly, he wasn’t upset in the slightest.

*****************************************************************

Even though the concert hall was clearing out, Jon was rushing against the tide of patrons hurrying the valets or trying to find themselves cabs.

“Damian!” he exclaimed when he caught a bushel of spikey black hair.

The older boy was speaking with a few members of the orchestra before he noticed the breathless Jon.

“Damian your performance was AMAZING!” Jon reveled. “You were right! I heard you play so many times before but never anything like this.”

A smile of pride and confidence curled over Damian’s lips.

“Well, then I have more than met your expectations?”

“Definitely!”

“Good,” Damian smirked. Sure he didn’t need anyone’s validation to know he played well, but for some reason Jon’s praise made his chest swell even further. 

“I only intend to get better,” Damian pledged.

“Then I’ll make sure to come to all your performances!”

Damian’s chest stirred with an unexplainable feeling. “Y-you don’t have to do that…”

“But I really like listening to you,” Jon assured.

Damian tried force a frown, but only managed a grimace and a faint blush. “Well…do as you like then…” 

Suddenly his voice went unnaturally low. “I…never use my house seats…considering my father and mother don’t attend my performances…” now there was something almost hopeful in his voice. “But if you perhaps want to use them from now on…”

Jon looked confused, both at Damian’s coy behavior and his misguided words. “Actually, Maestro does-”

“Jon!” A voice suddenly interrupted. 

“Dad?”

Clark almost looked like he’d been mauled as he staggered up to the boys.” By some miracle, I managed to grab us a taxi, so we better get going…” his eyes lit up. “Oh, Hi Damian.”

“Mr. Kent,” Damian nodded.

“Great performance!” Clark revered. “You really are a talented violinist. I swear by the second movement there wasn’t a dry eye in the house,” he gestured at his own puffy lids. “Mine included.”

Damian smiled a bit more, though he wasn’t nearly as moved by Clark’s words as he'd been by Jon’s.

“Did you need a ride?” Clark offered.

“No. I already have one.”

“Oh crud,” Clark suddenly cursed. “Someone is trying to snatch up our car!” he started to make a mad dash towards the exit. “Come on Jon!”

Jon was a bit apprehensive to follow. He really wanted to talk to Damian more about his performance.

“Okay, well, bye Damian,” he managed to blurt out before waving and running after his dad. “See you after the weekend!”

Damian just nodded, but found himself unable to look away until Jon was well out of sight.

Clark let out a sigh of relief when he finally took a seat next to his son. There had been a small altercation between him and the couple trying to steal their cab. Eventually though he the driver told them both to piss off, and even though Clark offered to share the ride, the couple seemed upset by the driver’s attitude and finally left.

“Dad?” a small voice called out beside him.

“Hm?”

When he looked over at Jon, the boy had his head lowered and seemed troubled. “Why doesn’t Maestro tell Damian he goes to all his performances?”

“I…” Clark was at a loss for words. Even though Bruce explained the nature of his and Damian’s relationship, Clark still couldn’t find himself understanding their situation at all. Jon was the light of Clark’s world, and he could never imagine being so standoffish with his own son.

Eventually he just settled with being vague.

“I’m not sure. I just know those two have a… _complicated_ relationship.”

“Oh…” Jon mumbled. “That’s too bad…”

Clark let out a dejected sigh and hugged his son to his body. “Yeah, it is…”

To be continued…

Ahh, so much happened in this chapter because I couldn’t find a satisfying stopping point that I liked! Sometimes despite my drafts, I start going off in unprecedented directions and then we end up with long chapters like this, lol. Well, I hope everyone still enjoyed all its long glory.

So, once again, I had the pleasure of using Dick as a device to poke fun at a Wayne, lol. Though I think Dick is a little less merciful with Damian because the boy gives him a better rise, also we all know Damian’s front isn’t nearly as solid as Bruce’s. Also, I just imagine Dick finds Damian a little more cute and fun to tease.

Okay admittedly this chapter was mainly geared towards Jon and Damian’s development, I just want to establish their relationship better before the next chapter, but I still managed to squeeze a tiny bit of Superbat in for our leads. I know I’ve said this before several times but writing Jon and Damian is just a bit of a fluff fest for me. I feel like I can get away with it more with these two, though dorky Clark and grumpy Bruce scenes will always be my fav, but this chapter I got to do a little bit of both!

One again, I want to thank everyone for all the support. I was actually really motivated while writing this chapter, and because of that, I actually wrote something else as a bonus.

Well more like, I was just in a writing mood and started adding a ton of things to this chapter, haha. Well this particular bit didn’t fit into the chapter the way I wanted it to, but I really thought it would be a shame not to share. So let’s just consider it a side story that I hope everyone enjoys (in addition to this already incredibly long chapter, haha).

BTW, the title this time was named after Bach’s _“Chaconne, Partita in D minor.”_ It was one of the songs Damian played at his concert. I thought it was fitting because not only is it one of the most beautiful violin solo’s but there is also a famous story about a son who abandoned by his father after introducing him to the Chaconne. The son then spends four years in Spain trying to master the song and of course the song always reminds him of his father. 

When I read about this, I just thought, wow what a fitting piece for Damian to play, you know considering his relationship with his own dad…I’ll get into it more later in this fic, but let’s just say Damian kind of has similar feelings towards Bruce…

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xjYQlmpS69k

**************************Bonus Story**************************************

_Turning the Tables_

He arrived earlier than usual. He usually did whenever Jon had his regular doctor’s appointment. Of course he could have met his son at his dorm after class, but sometimes Clark liked to listen in on Jon’s sessions from outside the hall.

He loved listening to his son play. Sure he still had a long way to go before he reached Lois’s level, but for some reason, whenever he listened to Jon, it always felt just as comforting and warm. He wasn’t even sure how it was possible considering Jon never learned to play from her. Maybe it had a lot to do with their hearts. If anything, that was something Jon definitely inherited from his mother, that and her kind smile.

Clark could listen to Lois play for hours. After a long day of work, nothing felt better than to throw off his jacket, loosen his tie, and sprawl out on the futon in his office. 

The room where Lois practiced was just across from his own, so Clark would leave his door open and listen dreamily to the sweet sounds of the person that he loved.

Clark really missed this. It was like therapy to him. All the tension of the day would just melt off of him, easing his heart, mind, and soul. 

After Lois passed, the emptiness in his life was felt in more ways than one. 

He remembered the night after he was finally released from the hospital. Sure there was pain from the heavy injury he received, but he knew the ache in his heart was worse. He’d been impaled straight through his chest by a sign he’d hit, and had it only been a few more inches to the left…

The moment Lois passed, Clark was still on the surgery table barely brushing past death. He didn’t even get to say goodbye and didn’t see her again until he finally made it to the funeral home where she’d been taken. Her face was barely recognizable, covered in makeup that tried to hide the wear of death. There was nothing left of the woman he loved in that cold lifeless body. It was just an empty shell of something beautiful that no longer remained in his world.

He wasn’t able to hold his own son until several weeks later. Clark just remembered going to visit him as soon as the hospital released him from bedrest, observing his son under a glass, several tubes coming out of him pumping oxygen and fluids into the infant because this tiny blameless life couldn’t even function on its own. 

To think such a small fragile soul had to come into this world fighting for his life, _alone_ , his mother gone and his father clinging onto his own worthless life just a few wards over. 

He didn’t even remember how he made it home that night. Maybe Lana drove him, or it could have been his own parents. He vaguely remembered sad voices trying to ease him and someone crying and begging him to respond, and then there were the angry shouts of Lois’s father, and maybe even an argument between General Lane and his dad.

During that time, he just shut it all out, the voices, the sounds of rage, the words of comfort he knew he didn’t deserve. Instead he returned to his home, _alone_. Unconsciously, he walked into his office, threw off his jacket, loosened his tie, fell limp on his futon, and cried till his body gave out on him.

After that, his days were dark. Sure he always put on a brave smile for his son. If anything, it was the least he could do. He had to make it up to him, had to make up the fact that Jon was thrown into this world under such bleak and black conditions.

Clark was determined though. He had to make sure Jon’s life was filled with the happiness and light he should have been greeted with when he first arrived, and even though Clark wanted nothing more than to crawl back into his sorrow and fade away, he couldn’t give up. Sure his life no longer had any worth, but Jon’s did.

It was that thought alone that kept him going. It could have been so easy to take a few too many of his pain pills, or to actually buy bullets for the hunting rifle his father gave him as a gift when he was young, but he had no right to end his life. That luxury was no longer an option and everything he had now belonged to Jon.

With his head to the glass and tears in his eyes, he recalled the first night he met his son. He remembered falling to his knees begging him for forgiveness.

The doctor’s told Clark Jon only had a 30 percent chance of surviving. He shouldn’t even be alive today. 

So Clark pleaded, and begged, and bargained with boy. Promised him if he just made it to tomorrow and the day after and the day after, he would make sure Jon would never suffer again. That he would dedicate his entire life to the boy’s happiness, though in the end the tables somehow got turned.

Even though he always smiled, the emptiness was there. Of course, Jon was too young to realize the difference, or so Clark thought.

It was only a few days after the seventh anniversary of her death. He remembered the day being particularly hard to get through, maybe because Clark was always bouncing between jobs. He just couldn’t quite find his place in the world anymore. He thought he would be writing music until he was old and gray, but now he just wasn’t sure what to do with himself, but he had to keep pushing forward for Jon’s sake. 

Sure there was plenty of money left over after funeral and hospital expenses thanks to Lois’s life policy, but Clark never touched the money for himself. He only used it for Jon, and unfortunately due to his premature birth, there was a laundry list of problems the boy had to deal with, and because of it, there were frequent visits to various doctors.

Clark remembered falling to his futon and loosening his tie. He didn’t even bother taking off his jacket. He was just too tired. The temperature in the apartment was a little chillier than usual. Sometimes when he got too cold, the wound on his chest would ache.

Clark clutched onto the front of shirt and waited for the throbbing to subside, but it never really did, at least not the pain in his heart. 

Not moments later, Lana and Jon came home. Lana was Clark’s best friend, and he couldn’t have been more thankful to have her in his life. They were childhood friends, and by some grace of God, she ended up marrying a journalist who worked in Metropolis at a well-known news company. Admittedly, Clark only moved to Metropolis because of Lois, but all in all it had been a wonderful place to live with plenty of opportunity for a songwriter.

Clark wanted to get up and greet them, but his body wouldn’t respond. Instead he just closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep.

Then something happened that changed Clark’s life again. At first he thought he’d actually fallen asleep, that maybe he just dreamed up what he heard. 

Suddenly the pain in his chest began to melt away, and was replaced with a swell of feelings Clark thought he’d lost a long time ago. In an instant, he was on his feet and rushing into the room across his office.

There before the piano was a tiny little blue-eyed raven-haired angel. Jon’s eyes lit up like they always did when his saw his father.

“Dad!” he beamed. “What do you think?”

Twice a week, for the last several months, Lana would take Jon to sign language classes, but little did he know, by Jon’s request, Lana was giving the boy piano lessons afterwards.

“We wanted it to be a surprise,” Jon explained. “So, do you like it?”

The tears wouldn’t stop flowing, but for the first time in seven years, Clark smiled from the deepest part of his heart and replied. “I love it.”

Clark smiled at the memory as he stood outside the hall where the boy was practicing with Bruce. When they used to live together, Clark would often listen to Jon play. With his eyes half closed and a dreamy smile he would lie on his futon and let all his troubles melt away. 

Now that Jon attended the GSPA, those moments were far and in between, but at least now Clark knew the boy was working towards sharing his gift of warmth with the entire world.

Ten years ago, on his knees, Clark promised to give Jon all the happiness in the world, but somehow, at some point, the tables got turned, and Jon became the happiness in his life instead.

End.

Thanks again for reading everyone!


	13. Tempest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case any of you didn't know. The boys calling Jon Beethoven isn't a compliment. It's actually a nod to the fact that the composer started to go deaf at the end of his career...

Jon idly dabbed at one of the keys. He’d been practicing for several hours now and the wear of the session was finally taking a toll on him.

He’d never formally competed before, and he was starting to get anxious about his next qualifier just a few weeks away. Maestro Wayne kept assuring him not to get too worked up over winning. That the only thing that mattered was his results, and his only expectation was that Jon saw improvement from his last score. Of course, only the top 5 performers would get invited to the regional competition, and that’s what Jon was aiming for, regardless of what his maestro expected.

Today was one of the few days a week that Jon didn’t practice with Bruce. It should have been a time for him to give his fingers and back a break, but Jon decided not to let a single day go to waste. 

Damian practiced several times a day and never took any days off. Jon wanted to get better and play with the same confidence as his roommate, and regardless of talent, he knew hard work and dedication like that was what he needed to imitate. 

“Hey Beethoven,” a familiar voice jeered from just below the stage.

Jon groaned under his breath. He purposely only practiced in the main hall later in the day when everyone had already gone home. That way he didn’t have to compete with others for practice time, and he could also avoid situations like this.

The older boy hopped up onto the stage and as usual, his two lackey companions weren’t far behind him. 

Apparently the boy was the son of some well know politician in Gotham, and he walked around the halls with a sense of undeserved privilege because of it. Then again, when going to a prestigious school like the GSPA, kids like Donnie were around every corner. 

Sure only the best of the best were invited to attend, but another requirement also seemed to be whose family offered up the most money and prestige. Jon wanted to believe it was solely his own skill and talent that won him his seat, but in the end, he couldn’t ignore all the whisperings about how the chancellor was a huge fan of his father’s writings, not to mention at one point in his career, his dad had written for many of the students who used to attend there.

“What are you doing here?” Donnie sneered as he slammed the piano fall shut and narrowly missed crushing Jon’s fingers.

“Yeah, this hall is for competition practice only!” One of Donnie’s flunkies jabbed. 

“I know…” Jon started to explain. “That’s why I’m practicing-”

“You!?” Donnie whopped before breaking into a mock laugh. “Look, kid, they don’t give out prizes for banging on the keys the loudest until you can hear yourself play.”

He leaned in over Jon and sneered. “Maybe, that’s how they do things in sunny old Metropolis, but here in Gotham you actually have to put in some real effort.”

“This kid’s from Metropolis?” Another one of the boys asked.

“Yeah, didn’t you hear?” Donnie chuckled. “Apparently his dad is some _has-been_ composer and Chancellor Grange is a total fangirl.”

“ _Ohhh_ , now everything is starting to add up.”

Donnie redirected his attention back to Jon and smirked at him smugly. “But the hack hasn’t written in over a decade so who really cares?”

Jon felt his anger boil and the fists at his sides started to shake.

“Don’t talk about my dad like that,” he warned with gritted teeth.

“Oh, does the truth hurt?” Donnie laughed. He could tell he was finally getting a rise out of the boy and rather than feel wary, he felt even more encouraged.

Jon tried to make an effort to ignore him, but Donnie wasn’t going to let him avoid his taunts, especially now that he knew which buttons to push.

The boy took a seat beside Jon at the stool so that he was facing him directly and leaned his back against the piano. 

“Didn’t you know the loser gene is hereditary?” He asked while forcing Jon’s eyes in his direction. “Your dad was a loser and so are you.”

“Take that back!” Jon snapped.

“Or else what?” Donnie crowed. “I bet your dad quit because he knew he couldn’t cut it anymore. Just another one hit wonder who bred his own lose-”

Jon whipped up to his feet and snarled. “I told you NOT TO TALK ABOUT MY DAD!”

“What the hell?” Donnie croaked before he was suddenly pushed to the ground.

After that, everything was a whirlwind for the boy. It wasn’t until he felt himself being dragged back to his feet and restrained by Donnie’s lackeys that he finally woke from his fury.

“You little brat!” Donnie cursed while wiping at the stream of blood pouring from his nose. “You’re gonna pay for that!”

Jon just glared back at him and attempted another lunge before realizing both his arms were being held back by Donnie’s companions.

Donnie smirked at the defenseless Jon in triumph at his position.

“You swung at me first,” Donnie crooned while cracking his knuckles. 

Jon let out a pained gasped as he felt a hard punch connect with his lungs. All the air was nearly knocked out of him, and even though he wanted to stagger backwards from the pain, his body was being held firmly in place.

“It’s only fair I get a few swings back,” Donnie laughed as he took a few more hits at Jon’s unprotected ribs. 

“Yes, but he only swung at you and not your two friends. So I hardly find these circumstances fair at all,” a voice behind the boys growled.

“What!” Was all Donnie’s lackey could blurt before he was being kicked hard in the back and sent hurling to the ground.

“It’s the maestro’s brat!” the second boy shouted before he was suddenly punched in the face.

Jon almost fell to the ground with them but was swiftly caught by the arm and pulled back to his feet.

“Are you okay?” a worried voice asked.

It took a minute for his vision to refocus, but Jon already recognized this striking pair of blue eyes.

“I’m so sick of you privileged little shits!” Donnie spat as he kicked at his companions so they would hurry to their feet. “Let’s see your daddies protect you now!”

Damian mouth twisted into a dangerous smile. “I don’t need my father to help me kick your ass!” 

He looked back at the slightly dazed Jon and smirked.

“Come on _Jon_. Don’t just sit there! Let’s teach these buffoons a lesson.” 

Jon’s eyes widened though not for the obvious reasons.

“R-right!” he nodded while smiling back. This definitely wasn’t the kind of situation one should be so excited about, but at this point Jon was on cloud nine.

*************************************************

Clark rushed down the hall at full speed. Normally he would have gotten lost by now, but today his feet knew exactly where to take him.

When his eyes fell on the boy sitting in front of the office with his head bowed and his feet dangling, he shouted. “Jon! Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

Before Jon could answer, Clark was kneeling beside the boy and working over every last inch of his body and making note of all the damage.

Eventually Jon found his voice, though when he spoke it was barely audible. “No, not really…”

Clark squeezed the boy’s shoulders together and turned his body so he was facing him directly.

“What happened?”

Jon’s head was still lowered and he started to tremble.

“I…I’m sorry dad,” he stammered before suddenly bursting into tears and sobbing into Clark’s chest. “I…there were some kids bullying me for a while-”

“What?!” Clark exclaimed.

“But none of this is Damian’s fault!” Jon immediately defended. “He was just trying to help me, and…”

Jon finally stopped crying and looked up at his dad. There was still a stream of tears welling up in his eyes but his voice was back to a steady a volume.

“I was the one who lost my temper first. This is all my fault. If anyone should be getting punished, it should just be me.”

“Jon…” Clark sighed softly as he hugged the boy back to his body. “You know I don’t condone violence as an answer, but why didn’t you tell anyone these kids were bullying you?”

Jon buried his nose into his father’s chest and sniffed. “I…I just didn’t think it was worth bothering anyone over. I thought I could handle it on my own, but…” his voice started to break. “But I was wrong, and now I got Damian involved, and I…I’m so sorry dad.”

“Jon…” Clark lulled while patting the boys back. “It’s okay. We’ll figure this out together,” he slightly withdrew so Jon could see his eyes, and though he wanted to look firm, he knew he was more than likely failing. 

“Next time you’re having a problem, you need to tell me, okay?”

Jon shook his head but kept his shamed eyes downcast. “Okay dad…”

Clark wiped at the boy’s tears with his thumbs and forced a smile. Even though he was angry at the bullies and worried for his son, he had to put on a brave face.

Jon couldn’t help but smile back when he saw his dad’s look of assurance, and once again he was hugging the man tightly.

“Preposterous!” A voice exploded before the office door was swung open so violently the glass nearly shattered.

“Damian wait!” Bruce called out.

The boy just glared at the man with unbridled rage before whipping his back to the man and storming away.

Bruce slightly faltered at his angry eyes and then gave up his pursuit. He then turned his attention back to the pale-faced woman behind him. 

“Chancellor Grange are you sure about this?”

Her face went stern as she recovered from Damian’s outburst and quickly retaliated. “Maestro, I’ve had it up to here with your son’s behavior! He’s been out of strikes for a long time now.

His attitude towards every one of his instructors is inexcusable not to mention his own peers. He refuses to work with any other students, which is the reason he can’t even manage a replacement accompanist.” 

She let out a dry laugh, “and never mind that no one wants to work with him, but the fact that he shuns anyone who even dares to offer is ridiculous. 

I’ve had so many complaints from several staff members concerning Damian’s behavior, and I’m sure if not for Ms. Kyle coming to teach here because of you putting in all those favors, no one would work with him at all!” she shook her head and exhaled deeply. “I’m sorry Maestro, but I have no choice but to suspend him.”

“You can’t do that!” Bruce pleaded with a panic Clark had never heard before. “If you do, Damian won’t be allowed to participate in the next qualifier!”

“Well, he should have thought about that before nearly breaking another student’s hand,” Marion scoffed. “You know his parents are threatening to sue the school now!”

“Please Chancellor-”

“No, maestro,” she snapped. “This is Damian’s final strike.”

Clark really felt bad for listening in on their conversation and almost felt tempted to shut the door they’d forgotten about. Then again, after the way Damian just slammed it, he wasn’t sure it could.

He thought about taking Jon somewhere else, but at the same time he didn’t want to draw anyone’s attention. In the end, he decided to just silently listen, worrying and feeling every bit as helpless as Bruce sounded.

“I…” Bruce started before closing his mouth. His jaw then tightened and when he finally spoke, his voice sounded firm and resolute. “If you do this, maybe a lawsuit will be the least of this school’s funding problems.”

Marion narrowed her eyes on him. “Maestro Wayne, are you threatening me?”

Bruce stood a little taller. “If that’s what I have to do.”

“Fine, go ahead and pull your funding!” she challenged back. “Money doesn’t solve all the world’s problems, and I promise you Maestro, if your kid’s attitude doesn’t change, he is in for world of trouble!”

“I know that!” Bruce retaliated, all his earlier bravado now completely lost. “But I…”

Bruce went silent and his eyes fell to the ground.

Eventually after what felt like an eternity, he looked back up.

Marion nearly gasped at the dark color that had taken his typically vibrant eyes and in a low voice Bruce answered.

“Then I will resign.”

“What?!”

“I admit if you lose the funds, the school will suffer a bit, but let’s see how well the school does with the loss of some prestige as well.”

Clark nearly shivered at the chill in Bruce’s words. This wasn’t just an idle threat. The man was definitely prepared to go through with his promise.

Now the chancellor seemed a bit anxious.

“So you’re willing to throw your entire career away for that son of yours?”

“I wouldn’t even be here in the first place if it wasn’t for him,” Bruce spat back.

“Bruce,” Marion sighed with a tone of concern and familiarity. “If we let Damian continue to get away with his behavior, what kind of an example would we be setting for other students?”

“I don’t care about other students!” Bruce shouted.

“Bruce…”

“I’m sorry, Marion,” Bruce apologized as he quickly tried to recover his cool. “I never wanted to put you in this kind of position, but the violin is my son’s entire life. If he doesn’t get to attend that qualifier, he’ll be eliminated from the finals and if that were to happen…”

Bruce dropped his face and went silent again.

At this point, he knew he was in the wrong. Everything he was doing and saying went against all his beliefs as a teacher, but he was desperate and no longer cared about shame or guilt.

A few more seconds passed by with Bruce trying to collect himself before he let out a long breath and sighed.

“If it will help, I’ll take full responsibility for this entire incident. If you need a scapegoat, then just use me. Also, any medical bills, attorney’s fees, anything that may come up, I’ll pay for it all.”

“Bruce…” Marion slumped her shoulders in defeat. “Fine, but this is Damian’s absolute last chance, you understand?”

Bruce’s face slightly brightened. “Yes, I understand. Thank you, Marion.”

“Bruce…” she grumbled. “Really, sometimes you’re more trouble than your worth… I hope you understand the fact that you aren’t going to be around to bail Damian out for the rest of his life.”

Bruce’s entire demeanor wilted. “I understand that…but for as long as I can, and as much as he needs me to, I will.”

“Fine,” Marion snorted, not seeming at all satisfied by his response. “But if Damian doesn’t find an accompanist, none of this will have mattered anyways.”

“I know…” Bruce sighed. “I’ll figure something out…”

****************************************************

They were grounded, which felt kind of strange considering they both lived in the dorms at the school. It was actually Clark’s suggestion, considering the fact that Bruce had gotten the boys out of suspension. 

Sure Clark was pretty upset that the bullies got the same kind of leniency, but in the end, he knew it was the best and most fair compromise. That way the school didn’t have to look like they were pulling favors and picking sides.

Clark really wished the bullies had gotten a harsher punishment, but at the same time, he knew how terrible Jon felt over the whole situation and didn’t want him blaming himself for any trouble it would have caused Damian and Bruce.

In the end, the other kid’s parents decided not to press charges. Honestly, it would have been a PR nightmare, especially so close to election time. Sure Jon threw the first punch, but the bullies were the ones who were mostly in the wrong, and Bruce would have certainly spun it that way had the matter been escalated. 

But Clark knew it was really just the idle threats of angry worried parents, and maybe had things been a little different, he would’ve been the unreasonable parent making similar threats.

So what their grounding amounted to was neither boy was allowed to leave their room for the next week except during classes. They were also designated specific time periods for meals, and if they needed anything else, they had to get it approved by their advisers.

After that, the boys would be on probation for the remainder of the semester, and if either of them got in trouble again, it would be an immediate suspension.

Jon blinked up at the ceiling. Honestly, he’d never been grounded like this before and wasn’t exactly sure what to do. Sure he’d gotten in trouble before, and maybe even put into time out or sent to his room for the day, but never anything so serious that his dad would do something this severe.

He didn’t mind so much being stuck in his room, but not getting to play the piano outside of classes and practice sessions was a punishment in itself. 

After counting the number of textured swirls in the ceiling, Jon finally mumbled. “Damian…”

“Kent.” The boy muttered back from the desk he was writing notes.

Two days had gone by since the incident, and Jon knew he’d put off what he wanted say long enough. Then again, his own shame and guilt over the situation held him back, and of course he just didn’t know exactly how to go about putting his words together.

Jon sucked in a lungful of air and then finally blurted out his entire sentence in a single exhalation. 

“I’m really sorry I got you in trouble.”

A sound of frustration ticked back in reply.

“You didn’t get me into anything. I am the one who decides what I get into, not you,” he pointed his pen at Jon indicatively. “Just because you’re fine with bullies saying fallacious things about you doesn’t mean I want to stand by and silently watch.”

Damian’s tight lips formed a proud sneer, “though I was rather impressed when you broke that idiot’s nose.”

Jon grimaced at the memory. Sure it was something he wanted to do for a while, but at the same time, he felt incredibly guilty.

“I shouldn’t have hit him…but he said all these terrible things about my dad, and I just couldn’t stand it anymore.”

“I understand the sentiment,” Damian muttered under his breath.

Jon finally sat up and looked in the direction of his roommate. “Damian?”

Damian quickly retaliated. “I mean, not because it was just you. I mean, who wouldn’t want to step in when they see an injustice right in front of them?”

The room was dark, but Jon almost would have sworn he saw a bright flush on the boy’s cheeks. 

He smiled deeply. “Thank you, Damian.”

Damian growled before finally facing Jon and snapping.

“Listen here, Kent. If you really want to thank me, then you should start with your actions and not your words.”

“Huh?”

“Your next qualifier is coming up soon, am I correct?”

“Y-yeah…” Jon nodded apprehensively.

The older boy tapered his imposing gaze onto Jon. 

“Well then I expect you to receive marks so high above theirs they won’t have any choice but to recognize your skill. Do you think you can do that?”

“I…” Jon lowered his head. “I’m not sure-”

“That’s not what I want to hear, Kent!” Damian barked.

“My father doesn’t choose his students haphazardly. Sure the school thought he was a good fit for you considering your condition, however, my father listens to every student’s submitted entry pieces and if he doesn’t think you have the potential to match his expectations, he wouldn’t even have bothered with you.”

Jon lifted his hopeful eyes back to Damian. “R-really?

Damian nodded with assurance. “You are more talented than you believe yourself to be. Stop using your own disability as an excuse not to reach up to your potential.”

Jon wrinkled his nose. “I…” he smiled. “You’re right.”

“Of course I am,” Damian snorted.

“Okay!” Jon exclaimed with a newly instilled sense of confidence. “Then I’ll do it. I’m going to whip their butts where it really counts!

“I expect nothing less from you, Kent,” Damian smirked proudly.

“Umm, Damian…” Jon mumbled as his voice and posture suddenly dropped.

“Hm?” Damian nodded confused as to why Jon was once again acting so coy.

Jon’s eyes were nervously drifting off to the side as he spoke. “You know, you can call me Jon, right? Like you did before...I really don’t mind if you do.”

Quickly he started to defend his request before Damian could even respond.

“I know you’re from another country and all, but where I’m from, we call our friends by their first names.”

“ _F-friends_?” Damian stumbled back in a strangely uncertain tone.

Jon didn’t seem to notice though. He was too preoccupied with his own embarrassment. “I mean, if it makes you feel uncomfortable, I wouldn’t force you to go against your customs, but just in case you thought it bothered me-”

“No!” Damian suddenly blurted.

Jon looked at Damian with confusion when he saw Damian’s anxious eyes. 

“I mean,” he started to stumble. “It’s fine. If that is your preference, then that is what I will call you...” 

Damian’s voice started to fade out. “...J-jon…”

Even though the lights were turned off, Damian would have sworn Jon’s side of the room lit up and he could see a bright row of pearly whites.

Damian wasn’t sure if he could handle the expression and immediately turned his back to the boy and cleared his throat over whatever words Jon was about to say.

“Well then, as soon as we are out of this house arrest, I expect you will start practicing twice as hard.”

“Yes!” Jon beamed back.”

******************************************

Clark didn’t knock like he would usually do, even though Bruce’s door was open. Instead he just poked his head in the room and quietly announced his arrival. 

“Hey Bruce.” 

The room was mostly dark, save for Bruce’s desk light where the man was working. The sun was already setting and it was well past normal work hours. Then again Clark still got the impression the man would be there working, like usual. 

It had been a few days since the incident with Jon and Damian and the group of bullies. Clark thought several times about talking to Bruce about the events, but every time he started to, he remembered the image of Bruce stepping out of Chancellor Grange’s office and finally noticing Clark and Jon.

The look of pain mixed with the guilt felt like a knife jerking twist to Clark’s heart. The things Bruce said in his desperation to help his son must have put the man to shame.

At that moment, Clark wanted nothing more than to assure Bruce. To tell him he had no reason to feel guilty about what he did. That it was something any parent would have done, and had it been Clark in Bruce’s place, he probably would have done the same.

Clark stood to his feet and opened his mouth, but Bruce just waved a dismissive hand to the man and turned his back and left. 

The look of mortification Bruce threw him had stopped the words clear in Clark’s throat. So Clark waited a few days for Bruce to recover from his ignominy, and in case he still hadn’t, Clark was determined to help him along his way.

Bruce didn’t look up from his work, but the small shrug he gave was plenty indication that Clark was free to enter.

“I brought you some tea,” Clark offered as he set a cup at the desk where Bruce was sitting. “I know you don’t really like coffee this late.”

Clark glanced at what Bruce was working on and saw there was nothing there but blank papers.

“Clark will you go out with me tonight?” Bruce quietly asked.

“Sure,” Clark instantly replied. Honestly, he was a bit surprised by the direct request, but he made sure to work hard to not make it apparent in his voice. 

“I just…I’m feeling like I need to do something where my mind can be completely clear,” Bruce sighed tiredly.

“Well, the festival is still going on, and our tickets are for the entire event. Do you maybe want to go?” Clark suggested.

Bruce leaned back in his chair and brushed a languid hand through his hair. “Yes, that’s fine.” 

“Great,” Clark smiled while trying to sound like his normal energetic self. “And maybe we can grab a bite to eat or something before, my treat.”

“Your treat, huh?” Bruce echoed, before closing his eyes and mildly smirking. “I thought you were done treating this _trust fund_ maestro?”

Clark didn’t miss the tiny hint of lightness in Bruce’s voice and decided to play back.

“Hmm,” he hummed whimsically. “Well, I suppose that kind of thing doesn’t matter. I mean, I know you can pay for yourself just fine. Now that I think about it, you always could have before even back when I just thought you were some regular guy,” Clark’s brow furrowed as he started to get lost in his own thoughts. “Well, I never thought you were a regular guy...”

“Regular guy?” Bruce mumbled back curiously. “So then what kind of guy do you see me as?”

“Umm, well…” Clark swallowed hard and tried to think of a good comeback but suddenly found himself at a loss. When he couldn’t find a viable response, he decided to settle on the obvious answer. “Well, you’re my friend, Bruce.”

“Your _friend_?”

Something about Bruce’s reply was harsh and could almost be mistaken for pain.

“Bruce?” Clark questioned.

Bruce finally stood up, his face still unreadable due to the shadows covering his eyes.

“Give me a few moments to get my things together,” he muttered while shoveling the obviously blank pages into his brief case. Clark wasn’t sure why Bruce suddenly seemed so upset.

He started to think of something to say but in an instant Bruce was looking back at Clark and smirking. “Then maybe we can find a place to eat where a _regular_ man like _you_ can afford.”

Clark’s lips curled, and he felt all the previous tension between them disappear. It must have just been his imagination.

“Oh yeah,” he finally grinned back. “I know just the place. They have the best apple pie. I really wanted to take you there for a while now, and I’m sure it will be just the thing to cheer you up.”

“Heh,” Bruce chuckled as he started to reach for his jacket.

“What?” Clark asked with a bit of offense.

“Nothing,” Bruce shrugged.

Clark cut off Bruce’s exit. He then tried to frown but only managed to look somewhat pouty. “If it was nothing, then why the laugh?”

“Well…” Bruce mumbled while trying to avoid Clark’s eyes. “Maybe I was just realizing how the simplest things can make a person happy.”

“Hey!” Clark snorted defensively. “Finding a pie that comes even close to my Ma’s was no simple task.”

“That’s not what I…” Bruce closed his mouth and smiled while shaking his head. “Alright fine, I look forward to trying it then…”

To Be Continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clark's an idiot and Bruce is losing his patience aka the alternate title for this chapter.
> 
> Okay, no more screwing around or teasing, it’s time to finally move onto the romance side of this story!
> 
> I hope though you enjoyed the short intermission of Damian and Jon being cute beyond repair! I think we can finally say they both are officially friends. Now just so no one gets their hopes up, this story isn’t about a romance between Jon and Damian, but I have to say, after writing this story, I am a firm supporter of the pairing now 100% (though I already kind of was before). Maybe I can be a little suggestive but their part of the story is more about an innocent friendship, also I feel weird writing romances between younger kids, but who’s to say about their future and childhood friends to lovers is always a great pairing ;)
> 
> As for Bruce and Clark…Clark is as clueless as ever, or maybe it’s more he’s just in denial. Honestly the guy doesn’t think very highly of himself and believes that Bruce would in no way be interested in him, especially since Bruce tries (poorly) to act like Clark annoys him. Honestly, Clark has been I widower for the last eleven years for a reason. Emotionally he is still pretty messed up and has revolved the last eleven years of his life to his son and thinking he himself is worthless. Good thing Bruce seems to think differently.
> 
> In any case, that’s enough hinting around for now. I really REALLY appreciate everyone’s encouraging words. Also I am looking so forward to sharing the next couple of chapters with everyone. Thank you again and please continue to enjoy!
> 
> This chapter was written a little quicker than I expected, so I didn’t really have time to ruminate on the perfect song to fit it. I did decide though to go with Beethoven’s _Piano Sonata No. 17 "Tempest"_ but only because I just started thinking about how much Jon and been holding back for so long and those bullies finally got was coming to them. Also Damian was kind of holding back to because really he hated watching Jon get bullied. In any case, I’m finally glad I got to write Donnie getting his teeth knocked out (I hate bullying so it always upset me when I had to write it). 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tiJjoFQtMvg


	14. Heart and Soul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now _this_ was more like the date I envisioned. Happy Monday everyone! Hope some fluff will help get you through the week ;)

Clark really tried his best to cheer Bruce up, and at the beginning of the night, things seemed to be going well.

Even though Bruce didn’t exactly rave about the pie, he did give it ample praise which was saying a lot coming from a maestro who never seemed that interested in sweets.

Afterwards, Clark even managed to convince Bruce to take a short walk through a nearby park before hailing a cab to the festival.

Bruce seemed a little quieter than usual, forcing Clark to dominate the majority of their conversations, then again, this wasn’t exactly anything new.

Clark kept his topics light even regaling Bruce with stories from his childhood and growing up on the wheat filled farmlands of sunny little Smallville.

Bruce’s lack of responsiveness almost made Clark feel like a nuisance, but every so often he’d take a quick peek in the maestro’s direction. The small content smile on Bruce’s face was all evidence that said otherwise, and as the night drew on, Bruce’s smile only deepened.

He also couldn’t help but notice that the longer they walked, the closer their bodies seemed to gravitate towards each other. More than likely it was his own doing. Sometimes Clark had a tendency to move closer to anyone he was engaging.

How many dates had he gone on in the past where he used this kind of tactic to will the nerve to finally reach out for a hand? Of course, this wasn’t that type of situation at all, and Clark almost felt silly for even considering the thought.

Still, at one point during their walk, the path started to turn narrow, and when Clark felt his fingers accidentally brush against Bruce’s hand, Clark was instantly recoiling.

Bruce didn’t even react and just walked on ahead while Clark sighed with the relief that he didn't do something stupid.

Not too long after that, the pair finally called for a cab and made their way to the festival.

“You’re him, aren’t you?” an unfamiliar man asked. “Clark Kent?”

“Uh…yeah.”

Clark seemed a bit wary when a man he’d never met was suddenly in his face questioning him.

Clark’s first instincts had been on the mark, and yet somehow he still didn’t manage to protect his face in time. 

“Clark!” Bruce exclaimed as Clark nearly toppled over backwards from the punch. He then made a move to retaliate against Clark’s aggressor. “What do you think you’re doing?!”

“Bruce, stop!” Clark pleaded as he grabbed onto Bruce’s sleeve with one hand and held pressure against his eye with the other.

“The nerve of you showing your face around here!” the man growled as he tried to push past Bruce who was standing between them.

“Yeah, what gives you the right!” the attackers somewhat larger companion snarled out. “Thanks to your actions we lost one of the greatest pianists of our time! Then afterwards you just hid under a rock and quit this industry instead of doing your part to own up for your mistakes!”

Bruce felt the grip at his arm tighten, all signs that Clark was struggling to hold back his words.

The man just sneered at Clark’s silence and scoffed. “I see you don’t have anything to say for yourself.”

“That’s because he knows everything we said is true!” the first man laughed wryly.

After that, the men seemed to lose interest, satisfied that they’d managed to knock Clark around both physically and emotionally. Bruce also refused to let either man past him and neither seemed willing to test his resolve.

In the end, they just turned to leave, Clark’s attacker muttering as he retreated. “Why don’t you do this industry a big favor and stay under that rock for good!”

Bruce glared at them until they were out of sight before turning back to the deathly quiet Clark.

“Clark, are you…”

Clark just smiled at Bruce weakly. “It’s fine Bruce…this isn’t the first time something like this has happened to me. Lois's dad actually knocked me out.” 

He chuckled faintly hoping Bruce would stop looking at him so restlessly and tried to assure him.

“Musicians are just really passionate sometimes, and their fans even more so. Every now and again, I run into people who are upset with me for quitting,” his voice lowered dramatically, “or fans of Lois…”

Bruce’s worried expression didn’t change, and only intensified when Clark finally pulled his hand away from his temple.

“You’re bleeding!”

Clark instinctively blinked but soon regretted his mistake when he felt blood get into his eye.

“Here,” Bruce ticked and then Clark felt something soft being pressed against his face.

When Clark felt the blood clear from his eyes, he reopened them and saw Bruce was dabbing at his injury with a silk handkerchief. 

Bruce seemed fully invested with tending to Clark's wound until they both accidentally met eyes. Bruce instantly retracted his hand but not before shoving the handkerchief onto Clark.

“This looks expensive Bruce, I can’t-”

“Keep it,” Bruce shrugged. “I have more of them than I can count.”

“Thanks…” Clark mumbled while nursing his eye. 

“We don’t have to stay here,” Bruce mumbled. “It’s fine if you want to leave.”

Clark’s already defeated appearance deflated more. “I’m sorry Bruce. Tonight was supposed to be about me cheering you up, but then I had to go and ruin everything.”

“You didn’t do anything,” Bruce assured. “Now the man who hit you is a different story,” he glanced back at Clark and noticed that the handkerchief was soaked.

“Speaking of which, your eye is already swelling up pretty badly, and the bleeding doesn’t seem to be stopping.”

“Yeah…” Clark chuckled dimly. “He had a ring on or something that cut me worse than his fist.”

Clark crouched down towards the ground and grimaced. “Ah…he cracked my glasses too…”

“Well…” Bruce trailed while looking apprehensive for a moment. Eventually though he shook his head and finished. “My place isn’t too far from here. Let’s see what we can do about patching you up so we can make sure you don’t need stitches.”

********************************************************

“Unbelievable!” Clark lauded as he took in the sight of Wayne manor’s main entrance. “When you said your family was wealthy, I had something big in my mind, but nothing like this! This place is enormous!”

“Yes,” Bruce shrugged before wrinkling his nose. “Which does come as a bit of a nuisance.”

“How so?”

“Keeping up with maintenance around here is no easy feat,” Bruce sighed wearily.

“Ever think about hiring someone to keep the place clean?” Clark suggested before a sly grin took his lips. “Maybe a cute French maid?” he nudged Bruce suggestively to which the man gave Clark a slightly off put look. Clark just laughed at his scowl and replied. “No, you seem more the type to have a fancy butler.”

“It’s not necessary,” Bruce sneered. “It’s just I who lives here alone, and no one ever comes to the manor besides me.”

“Then why not sale the place and move somewhere easier for you to manage?” Clark casually asked.

“I…”Bruce’s face twisted. “I can’t do that…” he sighed. “This was my mother and father’s home. Besides, Wayne manor has been in my family for generations now. The least I can do to honor my family’s legacy is keep up with this place.”

When he saw Bruce’s pained expression, Clark felt a bit of regret at his suggestion, though he wasn’t exactly sure the reason why.

Bruce noticed Clark’s sympathetic gaze and quickly changed the subject. “In any case, wait right here while I retrieve a first aid kit.”

*************************************************************

“There,” Bruce smiled as he withdrew his hand and admired his handiwork.

“As good as new?” Clark asked before putting his glasses back on and giving Bruce a dopey grin.

Bruce held back a snort. The image of Clark with one cracked lens and a bandage just above his right brow made the man look even more hopeless than usual.

In the end, Bruce just managed a devilish smirk. “I wouldn’t say _good_ was ever the word for it to begin with.”

“Ouch,” Clark hissed. “I think that stung a little worse than the guy’s fist. Though he did do a bit of a number on my face…”

“Yes,” Bruce chuckled wryly. “But at least he didn’t hurt anything of importance to you.”

“Hey!” Clark griped.

“Honestly though,” Bruce mumbled while eyeing Clark’s dressings thoughtfully. He then mindlessly reached over and caressed the bandage. “I admit I myself was a bit upset over you quitting the industry, but to do something like this…”

Clark’s smile faded into a look of shame. “I’m sorry…”

“It’s fine,” Bruce sighed while withdrawing his hand and fumbling with the first aid kit. “This is your life, Clark. If writing doesn’t make you happy anymore, you shouldn’t have to force yourself just to satisfy others.”

“No, Bruce,” Clark replied while shaking his head. “That wasn’t it at all.”

Clark lowered his eyes and looked at his own lap. After a brief moment of silence, he finally spoke. “You want to know why I really stopped writing?”

Bruce didn’t reply but couldn’t help but look curious.

Clark let out a defeated sigh and answered. 

“It’s not because I wanted to or I’m trying to punish myself as some form of atonement. It’s because I…just… _can’t_.”

“What do you mean?”

Clark unclenched his jaw and blurted. “I tried Bruce, I tried so many times I can’t even count. 

I really wanted to honor Lois’s memory by finishing her song. Even though I knew she’d never play it, but I…” Clark’s fists balled tighter. “Every time I try to write, my hands get shaky and my chest becomes so tight I can’t even breathe.

I thought maybe it was just because it was Lois’ song, but when I try to write for other people, the same thing always happens!”

Clark whipped his gaze back towards Bruce, his eyes now wide and frantic and completely glossed over.

“Do you know how much I loved to write? It was…it was my life’s passion, putting onto paper the music that I love. Seeing the joy on the faces of the people I wrote for, hearing the audiences’ applause, experiencing beautiful music played for the first time by the person it was meant for…making the world happy. But I…” Clark’s voice choked on a sob. “I can’t do it anymore.

That night when I lost my wife, I lost everything in my heart. The Clark Kent from the time, he died along with her.”

Clark’s voice dropped to something deathly alarming.

“If not for Jon…” his voice started to shake as he remembered his darkest thoughts. “I don’t even know if I’d be here today. All these years he was the only thing keeping me going.”

Bruce nearly gasped when Clark looked at him with deep azure pain. 

“Do you know what it feels like to lose it all? Do you understand how meaningless my life is to me now?”

Clark nodded his head. “Both my loves died that night…”

“Clark…” Bruce whispered as he watched the man drop his face into his hands. Desperately he wanted to reach out to him, but just when he felt his hand move, Clark spoke.

“It’s okay Bruce,” he assured with a hollow smile before shirking away the gesture. “You don’t have to feel sorry for me. It’s something I’ve come to accept and learn to deal with all these years.”

He chuckled numbly. “But I guess becoming a transcriber and having to look at the music other people have created...it’s a little bit bittersweet…” 

Clark narrowed his gaze past Bruce and his voice started to sound more clear.

“My dad said I could move back to Kansas and take over the family farm, but I can’t do that.

For one, there isn’t much room in Smallville to help Jon progress musically and the other thing is…” now Clark had a hopeful smile. 

“Even though it’s a little painful, I just can’t seem to drag myself away from the music that I love. Whether it’s something I can create or listen to, it always seems to find a way to my heart, and even though a lot of bad things happened, if not for the music, I never would have met Lois, and Jon wouldn’t even be in this world. And also,” Clark looked at Bruce sweetly. “I never would have met you.”

“Clark…” Bruce mumbled. “I…”

He suddenly stood up and turned his back to the man.

“I’m going to make some tea. Did you want some too? Or coffee perhaps?”

“Oh, yeah…sure,” Clark answered though he seemed a bit confused by Bruce’s sudden shift. “Coffee would be fine…”

“With an excess of sugar and cream on the side?” 

“Haha, so you know the way I like my coffee?” Clark chuckled.

Bruce turned back around and smirked at Clark drolly. “I wouldn’t exactly call it coffee after you’re done with it.”

Clark just snorted before Bruce picked up his kit and disappeared down the hall.

For a few moments, Clark sat silently in the dimly lit room and ruminated on his thoughts. Why did he end up telling Bruce all those things? He never really told anyone about those thoughts, especially the suicidal ones.

After several more minutes, Clark started to examine his surroundings.

_‘So this is Bruce’s home.’_

He appeared to be in some kind of parlor, and the size of the room was nearly as large as his apartment.

Eventually Clark willed up enough curiosity to explore as he started to carefully take in his surroundings.

 _‘Heh, Bruce somehow looks like both his dad and his mom…’_ Clark thought as he admired several pictures along the walls. There were several images of a Bruce who didn’t look much older than Jon with a man and a woman he was certain were his parents.

_‘And Damian is the spitting image of Bruce…’_

“Wow…” Clark mumbled when he saw a picture of Bruce outside a theater with his parents. “I didn’t know Bruce could smile like this…”

Clark almost felt tempted to tuck the picture in his coat, but resisted the urge to commit the crime.

“Oh?” Clark hummed when something familiar suddenly caught his eye.

“Clark?” 

When Bruce returned, Clark was no longer sitting at the sofa where he left him.

“You still have this?”

Bruce turned to the voice and saw Clark in the corner of the room looking at an old laminated newspaper clipping.

“I remember this,” he smiled fondly. “After the first song I wrote for Lois, my career as a composer took off. So many were begging me to write for them, and I had more request than I knew what to do with. Then the Daily Planet asked to write this article about me, and honestly I was floored…”

Clark cleared his throat and started to speak with a heralding tone.

_“They say music is the gateway to the soul. It is formless, timeless, and knows no bounds. It’s not constrained by the conventions of language or inhibited by a single conformist interpretation._

_A person’s heart brought to life over the waves of sound, the intangible embodiment of human thought and expression._

_Whether it is heard, played, or written, it touches each person, each soul differently, and what it defines for that separate individual is what it truly becomes.”_

He chuckled sheepishly and rubbed the back in of his neck. “I still can’t believe they used my entire quote…”

“Yes…” Bruce nodded as he made his way towards Clark. “It’s the reason I decided to save the article…” he set the tray he was holding down and gazed thoughtfully at the clipping in Clark’s hands.

“Honestly, I couldn’t have put it better myself…”

He looked at Clark curiously.

“Perhaps you aren’t just a talented composer. Ever think about taking up a career in writing or journalism?”

“Clark Kent the journalist?” Clark laughed incredulously. “Now wouldn’t _that_ be something!”

Suddenly he gasped and his eyes looked like they were about to bulge out his head.

“Wait a minute. Is that what I think it is?” He exclaimed while rushing to the other side of the room.

“I can’t believe it, is that a custom Fazioli Pianoforti?” Clark ranted while trembling excitedly over the piano hiding away near the back of the room. “Jon and Lois would probably give both their right hands to get a chance to play this.”

“Then that would defeat a lot of purpose,” Bruce scoffed.

Clark ran his fingers along the surface of the fall. “It’s a little bit sad this beauty has collected so much dust…” 

He sat down at the bench and lifted it open. “When’s the last time you played her?”

Bruce was still on the other side of the room looking a bit stiff and uncomfortable. 

“I don’t at all,” he eventually replied. “That is…was my mother’s piano,” he lowered his face. “I only play the pianos at the school for teaching purposes and nothing more.”

“I see…” Clark trailed before he was struck with a sudden thought.

“Well, I certainly can’t let a masterpiece like this go unused.”

“Clark?”

He started to strum at the keys and effortlessly played a few scales.

He then turned back towards Bruce and smiled. “She’s a bit out of tune now, but she still sings so nice.”

Bruce smirked back at him and started to drift closer. “So you do have a bit of skill?”

“Well of course I can do at least this much,” Clark shrugged. “I _was_ a composer.” 

He started to pick up a little speed. “You don’t graduate with a degree in this field without having picked up a few instruments, and of course the piano was a must. I can also play the guitar and drums, my dad taught me the fiddle…woodwind and brass instruments are not so much my forte,” he winked and then snickered. “Pun intended.”

Now Bruce was standing beside him. 

Clark looked up at him and grinned. “I wonder what we could play together?”

“I don’t play with amateurs,” Bruce snorted. 

“Aww, too bad,” Clark pouted before his eyes suddenly lit up.

“Oh yeah, this is the one I used to play with Jon when he was still young.”

“Of course it is,” Bruce sneered when he heard the familiar harmony of _Heart and Soul_ fill the room.

“Come on Bruce, play with me,” Clark pleaded.

Bruce didn’t move.

“You know you want to,” Clark continued to coax with puppy dog eyes. “Who can resist the call of Heart and Soul?”

“So pedestrian,” Bruce muttered.

Clark laughed again and then started to hum.

“Hmm hmm hmm, la dee dee da da daaaa.”

“Oh good grief,” Bruce huffed before he suddenly plopped down beside Clark. “Fine!”

“Yeah!” Clark cheered. He then nudged Bruce a little with his shoulder. “I knew I’d win you over.”

“Only because I’d rather play the melody than listen to your out of key humming,” Bruce grumbled while failing to frown.

Clark just chuckled and continued to play.

When Bruce’s fingers first touched the keys, he slightly faltered. He then glanced over at Clark. Even though the man’s eyes were closed, the same warmth he always radiated was permeating from his smile and urging the maestro forward.

Clark felt as though his heart had skipped when the first tiny string sounded from the keys beside him. Like the call of a tiny bird singing, it was simple and sweet. It’s voice hesitant and timid, and even though it sang with effortless skill, it felt as though it hadn’t performed in decades.

Eventually as they went on, the melody became stronger and more confident, and Clark knew by then he’d finally caught the bird in his trap.

Bruce wasn’t even thinking of anything at this point. Instead he just decided to move along with Clark’s whims. Feeling his way along as he played, getting lost in the rhythm, then again, with this man, it was always like this.

Just a whirlwind of passion and flurry, Clark did and said things without any effort or thought, and despite all his senses and every one of his doubts, Bruce found himself getting pulled in and completely caught every time.

Clark wasn’t sure at what point Bruce started to take command over the song. Of course, it should have been the case considering Clark was only playing the harmony. Then again, this was his ploy from the start. 

He just wanted to see Bruce finally relax at the piano and play from the heart, even if it was something as simple and small as this, but what was happening now went beyond his expectations.

As if he’d changed into a completely different soul, Bruce’s performance transformed the music into something Clark had never experienced in his life. A million times he’d heard and played this song before, but never with this raw warmth and glow reverberating against his ears and sending tremors to his heart.

Clark couldn’t even contain his feelings at this point. It was then that he started to recall the lyrics to the song and without any reservation he sang.

“Heart and s _oul_. 

I fell in love with you. 

Heart and s _oul_.

The way a fool would do.

M _a_ dly, because you held me t _i_ ght 

And stole a kiss in the night…”

Bruce suddenly stopped playing.

“Bruce?” Clark questioned as he turned to face the maestro.

It was then that his eyes widened and his breath hitched.

Softly, carefully, _tenderly _, Bruce leaned in and captured his lips.__

__To Be Continued…_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY! Of course captain clueless didn’t make the first move, and we ended up having to rely on Bruce for a change, haha.
> 
> Honestly, I never actually wrote a story where Bruce made the first move, at least nothing as direct as this. I admit though, Clark is a little less perceptive in this fic than most. Heh, but I enjoyed making him a clueless dork because as frustrating as he is, it just makes him so much more adorable, and right now I’m imagining the cute flush of shock on his face >///<
> 
> Well, I don’t want to spoil the next chapter’s fun by prattling on in the comments. Sorry for the cliffhanger too, but hopefully you will get your fill in the next chapter which I'll try to get done by the end of the week. Speaking of which, the rating is about to jump up ;)
> 
> Anyways, for now, enjoy all these feels, I know this chapter was chalked full of them, and I hope everyone is still enjoying the ride, and I REALLY look forward to sharing the next chapter.
> 
> Thanks again everyone for all the support!
> 
> Well, of course I had to have a chapter title dedicated to the song the inspired this fic.
> 
> So here is one of my favorite duet’s I found on Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7navttl9puM&index=21&list=PLzn__QR9_6NDy5oBqub1B5PFghY-X1cCW
> 
> My favorite version of the song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VcI4Qrh9MzA
> 
> Also, for those who didn’t know until now, the song and it’s beautiful lyrics: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y0FL97fRIhQ&index=25&list=PLzn__QR9_6NDy5oBqub1B5PFghY-X1cCW
> 
> Of course the movie scene that made the song famous all over again: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CF7-rz9nIn4
> 
> Just another version that is really unique that I like: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iC8rMOcPU88&list=PLzn__QR9_6NDy5oBqub1B5PFghY-X1cCW&index=19
> 
> Ah, I could go on, so many wonderful versions of this song <3


	15. Liebesleid (Love’s Sorrow)

It didn’t last long and yet somehow it felt as though the world had stopped.

Time was fleeting in those brief moments, as Clark’s mind slowly took it all in, the feel of soft lips caressing his own, a deep inhalation of ligneous spice touching the tongue with traces of saccharine citrus.

And then there was the heat, the way it burned so beautifully at the point of contact and spread, even lingering well after the moment when Bruce finally withdrew from their short and wanting kiss.

The few seconds that followed, Clark didn’t move. As if caught in a blissful state of stasis, his eyes remained shut and his breath was perfectly still. He didn’t dare breathe for fear of losing the delectable scents and tastes he’d drawn in, and he didn’t dare blink for fear of waking from his dream.

Eventually though, reality set in. 

Slowly he drifted his lids open and focused on the image of a brilliant blue-eyed maestro waiting with baited breath and a hard to read expression. 

“I…” Clark started before furrowing his brow and trying again. “I don’t understand…”

Bruce just smiled amiably. “Of course you don’t because you’re a _frustrating_ man.”

He let out a sound of annoyance. 

“And I was just content with things staying that way, but you couldn’t leave well enough alone.”

“B-bruce?” Clark questioned as he noticed Bruce’s sweet expression had transformed to irritation.

“You just kept pushing and pushing until even my resolve couldn’t last.”

Bruce leaned in closer and Clark felt his muscles tense.

“I tried to spurn you Clark,” Bruce insisted. “Really I did, because I know what a weak man I truly am,” his voice went sultry. “That eventually everything would lead up to _this_ ,” a hand found it's place in Clark’s lap and was used as leverage to bring their faces closer. “That my feelings for you couldn’t be contained.”

Clark braced himself for another kiss, but Bruce just took to scanning him instead, gazing warily at Clark as if he were searching for something. Eventually though he turned his eyes away and spoke quietly. 

“No matter how cold and distant I tried to be, you somehow always found a way to see through my façade.”

He lowered his face and smiled with defeat.

“Just like what you’ve always done. Peering into the hearts of those you meet…revealing to them who they really are…”

Bruce’s voice was now soft and when he looked back at Clark his eyes were just as tender.

“You know, Clark, before I even met you, I fell for you through your songs.

I can’t remember the last time I ever felt so moved by music…” something sad took Bruce’s azures. “I didn’t realize how much I missed that feeling…”

He finally pulled away and stood up.

Clark felt a tinge of regret at the loss of intimacy, but kept his complaints at bay and just listened to Bruce’s confession.

“Of course, I never thought of you as someone I would pursue. I knew you were married, so it was just a one-sided crush on my part. Just another one of the many fans of composer Clark Kent…”

Bruce chuckled idly.

“Imagine my surprise though when I discovered I’d be instructing your son. I didn’t even know you two were related when I selected him, but when the chancellor gave me the news…once again I felt my heart move in a way I didn’t think was possible anymore…”

“Bruce…” Clark mumbled as he took in the sight of Bruce clutching the front of his shirt and looking wistfully at the ground.

When Bruce heard the soft murmur, he started to move away and for some reason Clark felt compelled to follow.

Restlessly Bruce strode across the room with his back to the man, all while blathering.

“When we first met, I reacted so nervously. 

Perhaps it was because I never really shook the feeling of disappointment after you left the world of music. The offense you caused my students, but also to myself…” his grip on his chest tightened. “It was almost like my heart was broken again…”

Bruce started to shake his head furiously at his own thoughts and ticked.

“I really didn’t mean to behave so harshly, but I guess even someone like me can act immaturely. Also, you were nothing at all like I imagined. You were so headstrong and brash, broken…” his voice tempered. “flawed…but at the same time…”

He turned back to face Clark. Clark felt his heart thump hard when he saw Bruce’s torn longing.

Carefully the maestro idled his way closer, speaking gently in a clear and calm voice.

“I realized your passion for music and life, your love for your family and the ones you hold dear, your honest and direct nature, your kindness and all the good you see in the world through your kind eyes. You take every part of yourself, all the good and the bad, and put it into the masterpieces that you create, and that’s why…” Bruce stopped only a few steps away. “That’s why there has never been a composer like you before. You are truly a musical wonder…”

Clark’s breath hitched causing Bruce’s lips to curl further and giving him the courage to close even more space.

By now he thought Clark would have rejected his feelings and fled, but there the man stood, boldly, taking in Bruce’s heart and words, expression filled with reasonable shock but eyes earnest and accepting, just as the man always was.

“And once I realized these things,” Bruce continued while inching only a few breaths away. “I found my heart moving again and I fell for the man behind the music as well…”

Bruce’s hand ran up the bottom part of Clark’s jacket lapel and stopped just as he reached the area where it rested against his chest. Nervously he wet his lips, before lifting his head and locking gazes with Clark once more.

“I don’t want to be your friend, Clark, at least not in the way that you wish because right now…I’m far too in love with you...”

Clark’s chest swelled with a feeling he’d never experienced in his life. It felt like happiness and pain all mixed into something that made his breath cease.

“Bruce…” Clark mumbled before turning his eyes guiltily away. “I don’t…”

“Yes, I understand,” Bruce sighed with a lonely smile. “Your heart has and always will remain a possession of your wife.”

Suddenly he tugged hard on Clark’s collar, forcing their bodies together and speaking with a sharp firm voice.

“But I’m not a good person, Clark. Not at all in the slightest bit that you seem to believe, because despite the fact that I know your heart still belongs to that woman, I still want to take from you all I can get.”

“Bruce!” Clark yelped as he felt his feet kick out from under him and his body fall weightlessly towards the ground. When he landed though, it wasn’t quite as painful as he expected. 

At some point, Bruce had herded Clark towards the oversize sofa in the room, and when the man least expected it, Bruce finally made his move.

Clark tried to regain his bearings and speak, but found himself rendered immobilized by Bruce’s predatory gaze. 

Effortlessly Bruce straddled the man and settled himself onto his lap. 

When Clark tried to sit up, Bruce smoothed both his hands across the man’s chest and pushed him back.

Clark then felt his entire body halt when Bruce leaned in and whispered in his ear. “I recognize I’m not your usual preference. Perhaps this face and body isn’t to your liking?”

Clark still couldn’t find a voice to reply, though he felt as though his mouth was open in an attempt to try.

The bit of pain and sadness edging Bruce’s smile was the last thing Clark saw before Bruce brought a hand over his eyes and gently brushed them shut. “It’s okay,” he chuckled dejectedly before placing a kiss to the man’s forehead. “Just indulge yourself however you see fit. You can even think of Lois if you like…”

A deft hand started to unbutton Clark’s shirt while the other slipped up his thigh and made work of his belt.

“Bruce…you are…” Clark trembled while willing back another shudder. 

Bruce felt his fingers freeze when rough hands suddenly grabbed both his wrist and a coarse voice growled back “No!” 

Cerulean met azure as all other sights outside their locked gazes disappeared. 

Bruce didn’t dare move against the vice grip holding him in place. Instead he just waited in silent fear knowing he wasn’t prepared for the words he was about to hear.

“Bruce…” Clark started while swallowing hard. “You’re wrong. When, I first saw you, I instantly thought you were…” his voice was like a long exhalation. “ _Breathtaking_.”

And Bruce had been right. He wasn’t prepared at all for Clark’s reply, and yet despite the ache in his chest threatening to swell up into his throat, he somehow managed to speak.

“R-really?”

Bruce gasped when he felt himself being pulled into Clark’s body. He then breathed in heavily the scent of Clark and reveled in the feeling of being completely engulfed by the man’s embrace.

Clark rested his chin on Bruce’s head and for a moment the only thing he could focus on was the rapid racing of Bruce’s heart against his own thunderous beat.

“Bruce,” he sighed while holding the man even tighter, a complete contradiction to the words he was about to say. “I can’t do this to you. It wouldn’t be right to take advantage of your feelings like this.”

Bruce slightly pulled away. “You take advantage of me? If anyone is guilty, then I’m the one to blame.”

Bruce slid back up Clark’s form until their faces were level again and brought their foreheads together.

“You offer me nothing but friendship and kindness, and I throw it all away in just one night.”

Once again, Clark felt those soft lips brush against his own, though only for a fleeting moment, but in that brisk instance of absolute completion, Clark felt all the man’s yearning and desperation.

“Bruce, we shouldn’t…” Clark tried one last time to protest.

Bruce just laughed idly at the barely audible and wholly unconvincing objection.

“It’s okay, Clark,” Bruce assured, and Clark really wanted to believe those words. To just give into his desire and know that at the end of what they were about to start, everything could go back to the way it was before. That this one moment of weakness and unrequited fulfillment wouldn’t lead to the end of everything they’d built together.

And as he felt skilled hands glide down his body and hungry lips lap at his skin, those words translated for him into the most palpable belief, and Bruce’s truth was the only thing Clark wanted to accept in that moment.

Clark let out a stifled sound when he felt Bruce’s breath touch his stomach.

At some point between pondering his uncertainty and trying to will back rational thought, Bruce managed to rid the man of his belt and was now slowly slipping off his pants and boxers in one single tow. 

Bruce’s efforts only made it barely past Clark’s knees before the maestro was stopping and hungrily taking in the sight of Clark’s very eager arousal. 

Clark felt entirely exposed lying there on the couch with his shirt and jacket hanging off his forearms, glasses sliding down his bridge, and pants barely past his knees. Needless to say, he felt completely stunned and helpless under the fully clothed Bruce. 

Up until this point, Bruce was worried he was the only one getting excited by their illicit one-sided affair. That he was forcing the ever amenable Clark Kent to indulge in his selfish desires because of course that was just the kind of man Clark was. That even if he didn’t want this, he would comply all for Bruce’s sake.

Even now, he was probably still trying to fathom up some way to salvage their friendship, even though Bruce had so carelessly thrown it away. Then again, now that the truth was finally out, Bruce knew this was probably his last opportunity to taste and feel the man he yearned so long to hold.

The last several months had been like torture to the maestro. How close and yet far away was the man from his reach. How freely and generously Clark handed out that dazzling smile and tender gestures of adoration and amity. Bruce’s chest always felt so battered and torn at the end of all their encounters, but it was a pain worth enduring if he knew he could spend just another second with this man.

The things Clark would do and say made Bruce’s heart shudder whenever he lie alone at night thinking about him, sometimes even causing him to succumb to the most self-depreciating acts. Though tonight he knew he was going to commit the worst sin of all.

But enough of such fleeting thoughts. Now was not the time to think and fret. Bruce could beg the man for forgiveness later, though he knew never would. People like Bruce didn’t deserve such things. 

“B-Bruce!” Clark hitched as he felt a warmth and heat engulf him completely. Then with a lewd pop Bruce withdrew his lips and replaced them with his fingers.

Clark groaned and shuddered while Bruce expertly milked sensations out of him he didn’t even know existed. Then again, maybe he’d just forgotten. It’d been so many years since he felt another’s touch. 

A widower true to the name, Clark hardly dated or even imagined hooking up with anyone after Lois’s death. Save for his own self touch because the body just had a way of working on its own, Clark had been physically starved for over a decade.

Then again, even if he hadn’t, he knew there was no way anyone had command over the human body like maestro Bruce Wayne. Those long fingers and skilled hands were definitely the master of more than just the piano.

Clark knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. Not with the way Bruce was licking and nipping at his sack, mouth puckered at the tip of his head and hands working effortlessly to stroke out the man’s inevitable finality.

And Bruce reveled in the sounds of Clark’s impending release. Clark panting and whining, his hands stretching out towards him not sure where they wanted to go but knowing they needed to grab hold of something and brace for the end.

Finally they found their way to Bruce’s shoulders, and the sting of nails driving into his skin was such a satisfying burn but not nearly as gratifying as the sound of Clarks hoarse voice as he called out Bruce’s name. 

“B-bruce, w-wait-“

Clark tried to push Bruce away, but the maestro refused to move and just bobbed his head faster and took Clark in further.

With a violent arch of his back Clark was coming like he’d never come before. “ _BRUCE_!” 

Greedily Bruce devoured everything Clark had to offer, expertly holding back a gag when Clark’s body started to involuntarily thrust deeper down his throat.

Clark realized he was now sitting up, though the weight of Bruce’s body and the arms wrapped around his waist cupping his butt held him firmly in place.

He was breathing heavily now, sweat pouring from his brow as if he’d just run a marathon, then again with the way Bruce just worked his body, maybe he really did.

Bruce just smiled up at the man looking completely satisfied with his work, and despite the wild look in his eyes and the trickle of fluid specking his lips, the man looked as prim and proper as ever. The way the loose strands of hair fell perfectly out of place only extenuated Bruce’s natural grace and refinement. Though at this moment the only thing running through Clark’s mind was a thought he’d tried so desperately to keep at bay since the moment he met Bruce.

_‘I want to mess him up.’_

Then as if in an act of remission, Clark was tossing his glasses onto a nearby stand, reeling in Bruce’s tie, and capturing the man’s mouth in another ravenous kiss.

This time there was no holding back. 

Fingers made their way to Bruce’s raven locks, mussing his hair and making his appearance finally match his wild blue eyes.

Then the jacket and shirt had to go. 

Bruce whined a bit as Clark started to manhandle him. The words _impatient_ barely uttered through the labored gasp for air that Clark finally allowed Bruce as he continued to ravish the maestro’s lips and face.

Bruce couldn’t help but laugh a little at Clark’s eagerness. To think after so many years of pining, the two of them would finally be at this place.

On his back Bruce fell, Clark nudging the telltale signs of another waking arousal into him. Then there was a hungry mouth working its way all over every inch of Bruce’s exposed form, teeth nipping at him a little and leaving marks that would be there for days.

Bruce closed his eyes and focused on the heat he felt from every one of Clark’s touches, spreading throughout his body and pooling down to the painful need between his legs.

“Bruce.”

This time his name was called out soft and sweetly and Bruce couldn’t help but shudder. How could such a gentle sound have such a heart wrenching effect on one’s body?

“Bruce.”

And again Clark was sighing amorously through that tantalizing skin.

The maestro couldn’t take much more of the tender words and caresses.

“Bruce?” Clark blinked when he suddenly felt their positions shift, the maestro forcing Clark back into submission as he tore the man away from his careful exploration.

Then with those same swollen lips he’d used to drive Clark mad, he smiled down on the former composer with a devilish grin.

“I know this isn’t something you’re accustomed to,” Bruce sighed while grinding the hips together. Both men silently gasped at the action, before Bruce was lifting up on his knees. “Just relax and let me show you how it’s done.”

Clark's jaw just hung frozen in place as Bruce started to jerk himself off. After a few more rough strokes, Bruce took all the slick from fingers and started to work them behind his own ass.

“Bu…” Clark started but found himself unable to string together anything meaningful. Instead he just sat there propped up on his elbows in a dumbstruck state, watching as Bruce started to finger himself. 

Bruce’s hazy half lidded azures remained locked with Clark’s own wide eyes. Bruce then whined a little as he continued to stretch himself, a bit of pain mixed with pleasure clouding his face.

Clark never felt more turned on in his life, getting a front row view of this living Adonis pleasuring himself above him. 

It wasn’t until Bruce dropped his head to Clark’s shoulder and started to tear up that the man felt alarmed. “Bruce are you okay?” 

Bruce just shook his head and panted. “I’ll be fine, it’s just…” he gritted his teeth. “ _Been_ awhile…”

“Ah!” Bruce cried out. Before he even had time to react, Clark was suddenly stroking him, trying his best to ease Bruce’s suffering.

It was all too apparent from Clark’s clumsy fumbling that he’d never experienced an encounter like this before in his life, but just knowing that the one treating him so careful and tenderly was Clark sent even more shivers down Bruce's spine.

“You don’t,” Bruce bit his lower lip. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know,” Clark smiled while doubling up his efforts.

Now that he was starting to feel more comfortable, Clark's fingers became much more explorative and skilled.

“ _Hah_ …” Bruce mewled his breath hot against Clark’s neck. If this continued any longer, Bruce was liable to come.

Bruce grabbed Clark’s wrist, and pleaded. 

“Clark, enough, I…I’m ready _now_.”

Clark started to say something but his words turned into a pleasured moan as Bruce started to lower himself onto him.

“ _Bruce_.” 

Even though he wanted nothing more than to squeeze his eyes shut and focus on the sweet heat around him, Clark willed his lids open and watched Bruce’s face. There was no way he was going to miss seeing a moment of this bliss.

The twist of pain on Bruce’s face tore at Clark’s heart, but it was soon washed over with a light hue of pink and lips forming into a deafly silent _oh_.

Finally Bruce settled himself onto Clark. His eyes still shut as he took a moment to adjust to Clark’s size and bask in the feeling of being completely full. Clark didn’t dare move, even when he felt Bruce’s muscles finally relax. That is until he felt a nip at his ear and heard a sultry low pleading.

“Clark… _please_...”

After that, Clark’s mind was gone. There was no need to hear the command twice.

Bruce braided his fingers through the cushions, and jarred his feet into the springs. It was all he could do to keep from falling completely apart.

Clark’s thrusts were wary and shallow at the start but when he heard Bruce urging him to driver harder and faster they became much more urgent and feverous.

There were tears in Bruce’s eyes, evidence that the man no longer knew what to do with all the pleasure welling up inside him. He tried to find a rhythm to match Clark’s need, but found his body much too weak from the man’s relentless drive to register properly the thoughts in his head. Instead he just gave in and surrendered completely to the man.

Bruce didn’t even feel his orgasm coming until it was already violently ceasing up his body. Everything felt just too intense to distinguish any heightened differences in his pleasure. Clark hadn’t even touched him save for the barely satisfying friction between them, and Bruce really couldn’t remember the last time he’d found release without a hand.

“C- _Clark_!” he gasped as he threw his head back and cried.

Clark just kissed at the words and continued to pound into him allowing Bruce to fully ride out his orgasm. 

Admittedly Bruce was more than a little disappointed when Clark pulled out at the end. Even at a time like this, the man was trying to put Bruce’s needs into consideration. Of course, the clueless idiot didn’t seem to realize what Bruce needed was every bit of Clark he could get.

Completely spent, Clark collapsed beside Bruce, and suddenly the oversized couch felt a little too small for comfort. Bruce was too tired to complain, or so he thought. Instead he just nestled up closer to Clark’s chest and mumbled something incoherent.

Maybe they were just more murmurs about how much he really loved the man, though he hoped he kept those thoughts to himself.

When he awoke a few hours later, he realized it must have been something along the lines of wanting to be in his own bed, because somehow the two of them ended up in the closes guest room.

Did Clark carry him all the way there? Bruce couldn’t even remember at this point.

Instead he just smiled softly at the man peacefully slumbering next to him, the same sweet boyish features taking his ever handsome face even while he slept.

Bruce brushed the bit of loose strands from Clark’s face so he could take it all in clearly before he felt a tremble of reality shake his heart.

“Clark…”he chocked before kissing the man’s forehead. “I’m sorry…”

*****************************************************************

When Clark woke up the next morning it took a moment for him to register where he was. 

He sat vacantly for a few moments blinking up at the foreign ceiling and wondering about the unfamiliar bed.

The events from the night before were still like a haze in his mind. If not for the ache in his body and the weight on his chest, he would have easily believed that he dreamed the entire night. Though never in his wildest fantasies did he ever once believe what was in fact the reality of truth.

_‘Bruce said he loves me.’_

Clark immediately vaulted up into a sitting position. The supple sheets fell carelessly away from his body revealing all the marks and visible signs that was evidence of their affair.

Clark looked around the room, and realized that he was alone. His eyes then fell to the stack of neatly folded clothes lain thoughtfully atop a footlocker near the edge of the bed.

Clark saw the nearby clock on the wall.

“Crap!” he shouted when he realized how late it was. No doubt Bruce already left for work.

Clark struggled to get his pants on until his cellphone fell out his back pocket. That’s when he noticed a single text from Bruce waiting in his inbox.

 _Goodbye_ was all it said.

Clark didn’t even want to try to understand the meaning of the message. Of course, he already knew Bruce well enough to guess. 

Clumsily Clark rushed to get dressed all while cursing silently under his breath. 

To Be Continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I write flowery porn :P
> 
> Well some of you might have already guessed by now that Bruce has had crush on Clark this entire time. I tried to make the hints subtle but some of you are really perceptive. In any case, for those who didn’t realized it, I hope Bruce’s up and down behavior makes a lot more sense now. I mean, just go back and reread some of the scenes if you have the time, and I bet it will look so much different now ;)
> 
> I mean, imagine that you are this really shy person with unrequited feelings for some idiot who won’t leave you alone and insist on you being ‘just friends.’ Clark has no idea how much he was torturing Bruce over the last 15 chapters of this fic, but hey, at least Bruce finally caved in (it only took 14 damn chapters haha).
> 
> Still, we had plenty of chapters with Clark being an idiot, now it’s Bruce’s turn. This man does not take rejection well at all, and as typical of our batty Bruce, he has to try and be preemptive. Too bad he is such a terrible judge of feelings when they happen to involve himself. Let’s see how the relentless Clark will handle him ;)
> 
> Also, thank you so much for your words of encouragement. I look forward to sharing then next chapter!
> 
> I was torn on what kind of song to use for this chapter because it started off romantic but then ended kind of low and underline it was bittersweet throughout. In the end, I chose Fritz Kreisler’s _Liebesleid (Love's Sorrow)_. This is such a beautiful song that is sad at some parts, playful at others, chaotic, but overall hopeful, and let’s face it, when it comes to love sometimes it can be bittersweet but we can’t give up on it  <3
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=exVFgbGRN-Q&list=PLzn__QR9_6NDy5oBqub1B5PFghY-X1cCW&index=36


	16. Once Upon a Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to give a very big special things to AnonAnon who drew the most heart melting fanart of my favorite scene in this fic. It was the scene where Clark and Bruce play together and this art is just too perfect. Gah I can just see all the warmth and love in their expressions. Those flirty dorks >///<
> 
> http://i966.photobucket.com/albums/ae142/meltymelon/01.png  
> http://i966.photobucket.com/albums/ae142/meltymelon/02.png  
> http://i966.photobucket.com/albums/ae142/meltymelon/03.png
> 
> Thank you so much, this really made my day<3

Bruce wasn’t sure why he felt so surprised when he opened his office door and saw a cross-armed Clark standing outside of it.

Despite being a little startled, the maestro didn’t betray a bit of his emotion and simply gave the man a detached look.

“Hello, Mr. Kent’s father. Did you sleep well?”

Clark narrowed his eyes on the man “Bruce,” he clenched back. “So this is the way things are going to be between us?”

Bruce dropped the pleasantries and frowned before pushing past the man “I already told you Clark, I can’t accept your friendship. It’s okay though, it’s not as though I’m upset with you or think you did anything wrong. If anything, I’m the one who took advantage of you.”

Bruce knew he was talking much faster than usual, trying his best to control the flow of their conversation.

He picked up his stride a bit, but felt Clark following closely behind him. Part of him wondered what kind of face the man was making, but he didn’t dare look back until he finally reached his destination.

Bruce stopped just outside his classroom and finally turned to meet Clark’s eyes. Just as he imagined, Clark looked completely abashed and was frowning at him deeply.

Bruce tried to act indifferent but only succeeded in avoiding Clark’s gaze.

“In any case,” Bruce started. “Last night and this whole _farce_ at being friends, let’s just put it all behind us. There’s no need to make things messy. For the sake of your _son_ , I’ll just continue to be his maestro and nothing more.”

Bruce knew it was a low move, trying to use Clark’s biggest crux against him, knowing full and well the man would never do anything to jeopardize Jon’s happiness.

Clark’s jaw quivered and his eyes sparked with anger. 

“No, you don’t get to do that Bruce!” He shouted. “You don’t get to pretend like last night didn’t mean a _damn_ thing!”

Bruce couldn’t even slightly pretend not to be shocked by Clark’s outburst.

Instead he just fumbled with doorknob in front of him and stammered back nervously. “Clark, I’m very busy. I have a class right now. Just come back and talk to me after-”

Just as he started to open the door, Clark slammed it back shut with one hand and leaned all his weight into it.

“This can’t wait!”

Bruce was floored and looked at Clark with unbridled disbelief before glancing back at the room where several of his students were looking at them with curiosity and worry. 

“Excuse you?” Bruce snapped.

Clark grabbed Bruce roughly by both his shoulders and forced the maestro to look at his face. 

“Listen to me Bruce, there’s no way I’m going to let things end like this. You don’t always get to have things on your terms!”

For a moment, Bruce was still stunned. He always knew what a passionate person Clark was, but to go this far was beyond anything he imagined. As usual, the man wasn’t thinking at all and was just simply acting. How careless of Bruce to believe hiding away at the school was going to help him avoid this inevitable confrontation.

Bruce let out a tick of frustration though it was more due to his own miscalculations and less from Clark’s outlandish behavior.

He then easily shrugged himself out of Clark’s grip and snapped back. “So then what are you wanting from me, Clark? You already made it quite clear where your heart lies, and I think I’ve been more than painfully honest where mine does too.”

At these words Clark’s anger slipped. Bruce didn’t let a second of his hesitation go to waste and quickly brushed past the man and started to race down the hall.

Clark started to chase after him, knowing Bruce was probably trying to escape into his office.

Bruce attempted to slam the door behind him, but Clark sacrificed his right shoulder to stop him.

For a minute the two of them struggled at the doorway, Bruce trying with all his might to force the man away, and Clark refusing to budge no matter how much it hurt.

Eventually though, Bruce gave up the fight and leaned his head on the edge of the door and sobbed. “I can’t be your friend, Clark. Not when the only thing I want to do right now is forget about you. Then maybe I can finally stop feeling this pain in my chest. Then maybe I can finally get over you and move on with my life again.”

“Bruce…”

“I’m not a good man, but I’m not so wicked that I’d ask for you to choose me over the one you really love.”

Clark nearly lost his claim over the doorway when Bruce looked up at him with eyes threatening to spill tears. 

“I don’t just want your body, Clark. I thought that’s all I needed, but I was wrong. I know now I have to have your heart too, and if I can’t have both, then I don’t want anything from you at all!”

The door finally slammed between them. Clark had been so taken by Bruce’s agony his body just stopped working allowing Bruce leverage to finally overpower him.

After that, the sound of a lock clicking sounded between them. 

The world was now impossibly still, and Clark felt his heart grow silent and stop.

Bruce slid down the door until he was sitting on the floor with his fingers laced through his hair and his head bowed between his knees.

He then held his breath and waited for Clark’s retreating footsteps, but they never came. 

“Fine then,” a quiet voice replied. 

Bruce lifted his head up. “What?”

“Then you can have it,” Clark answered.

Bruce pulled back from the door and looked at it. “Have what?”

Clark leaned his head on the window and sighed. “My body, my heart, my soul, you can have it all.”

The door flew back open.

“Clark, you don’t even know what you’re saying,” Bruce snarled incredulously. “Are you really so desperate for companionship you would-”

“No Bruce, no!” Clark shouted. Then before Bruce could run away again, he rushed the maestro and embraced him.

Bruce tried to spurn his affection and struggled violently to free himself.

Clark just squeezed even tighter and sighed.

“I…it’s not just because I don’t want to lose you as my friend, it’s because I don’t want to lose you at all,” he smiled softly at his own recollection. 

“Hearing how you really felt about me made me so incredibly happy but also came as such a shock. To think that all this time…”

Clark let out a soft laugh. “I’m sorry Bruce. All this time I thought I was just some bothersome guy trying to force my friendship onto you, when in reality I was making you suffer.

Of course I thought the same as you. That it would be best for me to just back off, to not be selfish after learning about your feelings and leave you alone. So I came here today thinking we’d just end it, but no matter how much I tried, the right words never came, and when I finally saw you, I realized the reason why.”

Bruce stopped his flailing and finally accepted Clarks’ warmth, but at the same time he was happy Clark had captured him from behind. Just the idea alone of Clark’s tender expression was enough to make Bruce’s chest throb as he listened quietly to the man’s words. 

“Bruce, I don’t want to say goodbye to you because at this point, I just can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

Bruce felt Clark start to tremble, though when he heard his confession, he wondered if he was the one who was actually shaking.

“After Lois passed, I never found interest in another person besides Jon. My best friend Lana tried to encourage me to date, arguing it wasn’t fair to Jon or myself…”

Clark’s voice started to break. “I tried, I really did but I…”

Clark’s hold tightened.

“Since the day we first met, I’ve been completely captivated by you, Bruce. Even when I wanted nothing more than to knock out all your teeth, I just couldn’t stop thinking about you, and I couldn’t figure out the reason why. That’s why I couldn’t leave you alone, but after hearing your confession…”

Clark’s words started to fade as his own realization set in.

“Bruce, I never thought I'd love anyone but Lois, and just when I’d finally come to terms with my reality,” Clark forced Bruce to face him. “I met you.”

Bruce’s breath hitched when he read the sincerity in Clark’s eyes. Clark’s smile deepened at the sound.

“Your words, your thoughts, your heart, even your tiniest gestures pull me in, and I don’t think I can ever get enough. That’s why I wanted so desperately to be friends because I wanted to know you more, see you more, experience you more…”

Clark dropped his head to Bruce’s shoulder and pleaded. “Please Bruce, I…don’t want to lose you. I know I really don’t have much to offer, that I’m all messed up and broken on the inside, but if you just give me this chance…”

“Clark…” Bruce called out softly before lifting the man’s chin back up.

The color of azure in his gaze was unlike anything Clark had ever seen. So much love and affection being mirrored back, and without having to say another word, Clark read the man’s answer through his eyes

“Bruce…” Clark whispered back before leaning in. 

Bruce let out a small whine when he felt himself get overwhelmed by Clark’s kiss. Voraciously he devoured the maestro’s mouth, making known all the passion and affection he held for the man.

The few kisses they experienced before had always been so fraught and desperate. Bruce unable to fully relinquish his heart, too afraid his feelings would drive Clark away. 

How silly he felt now at the thought. To ever think that honest feelings and affection would spurn this man.

Not a bit of Clark’s fervor was being held back. Further and deeper he plunged, their mouths melding together into a beautiful connection. The typically clumsy and playful Clark dominating Bruce, pouring into him all his love and adoration, and Bruce just savored in the pure and raw emotion.

It was more than he could ever remember experiencing in his life, and soon he found himself pulling away so he could gasp for air and take it all in. Clark, however, was still caught in his fervor, lips peppering kisses all across Bruce’s face, teeth nipping at his neck, and tongue tasting the skin at his collar.

Then the hands that were behind Bruce’s head and at small of his back started to travel to his hips. Slowly Clark became more enraptured until Bruce felt fingers tugging at his jacket.

“Clark…” Bruce lilted while trying to swallow a moan. “I really wish you would have waited till later to confess your feelings to me…”

“Mmm?” Clark hummed though he seemed more invested with Bruce’s earlobe than his words. 

Bruce shuddered when he felt a hand untuck his shirt and slip underneath the material. He then swallowed hard and tried to will his resolve. 

“A-and as much as I would like to see where this is going…” Clark was now caressing Bruce’s exposed stomach and waist and for a second the maestro almost forgot what he was saying.

“…I really do have a class right now,” Bruce finally strung out.

Clark still didn’t respond and Bruce felt another hand cup his ass.

The maestro knew he needed to be more frank and somehow managed a growl, though it sounded more enthralled than firm.

“And showing up after arguing with another student’s parent looking disheveled with marks all over my neck is not going to help my already questionable reputation at this school.”

All of Clark’s muscles tensed.

“AH!” He balked, his eyes suddenly widening and turning back to their normal lucidity. 

“Omigosh!” He shouted before pulling completely away. “I’m sorry, Bruce. I just, got caught up in the moment!”

“That seems to be how you go about your life,” Bruce chuckled before kissing Clark’s forehead.

“Let’s do pick this up again later tonight though, hm?”

“Y-yeah…” Clark stammered as he watched Bruce straighten his clothes and wondered at what point he removed his jacket and unfastened his lower shirt.

After that, the maestro exited his office looking completely clean and put together, whereas Clark had to take several moments to recollect himself.

Bruce’s playful smirk was the last thing Clark remembered before the maestro left the hot unfulfilled man who was looking forward to that night.

******************************************************************

Only a few days had passed since the two of them confessed their feelings for one another. Of course, Bruce was true to his word, and as soon as he got off that evening, they made sure to thoroughly consummate their relationship, and Bruce had been quite _thorough_ , not that Clark was complaining, especially considering he was the one who’d been so insistent on _validating_ their union more than just a few times that night.

Unfortunately, after that, Clark was busy with a pile of transcripts and didn’t get a chance to see or talk to Bruce again. Sure it was only a few days, but to a man in love, it felt like an eternity of separation.

Then again, it did give Clark a little more time to reflect on his confession. Honestly, Clark hadn’t even realized his own feelings until the words were spilling out of his mouth, whereas Bruce had been pining over the man for years.

Of course, Clark knew deep down he’d probably been in love with Bruce for a while. Still, it’d been such a different experience for him.

With Lois, he just knew it from the start. It was love at first sight, and so he pursued the woman relentlessly until he finally got her to notice him. How clumsy and foolish he’d been while trying to win her affection.

Then again, had it really been all that different with Bruce? 

For so long, Clark’s heart was stuck in the past. So much so, maybe he’d just forgotten what it felt like to be in love. 

In the end, though, Clark's heart was the thing that guided him to Bruce. Forcing him to do and say thing he didn’t understand. Just feeling and not thinking, knowing what it needed to do even though Clark was being so difficult and unaware.

Clark laughed a little at the thought as he quickened his steps.

As soon as he sent his last transcript to his boss, he’d taken the first train to the school. Of course, his main reason for going was to pick Jon up for an appointment, but he knew the reason his heart was fluttering the entire time was because he was so excited to see Bruce.

When he got there, Jon was finishing up one of his sessions with the maestro. Clark waited outside of the hall, but as more time passed, he started to become impatient.

_I want to see Bruce!_

Clark was practically pacing the halls when Bruce finally poked his head outside the room.

“You don’t always have to stand out in the hall. I do have seats inside.”

“Oh!” Clark flinched. Honestly he’d been so preoccupied with his anxiousness he didn’t even notice Bruce until he practically ran into him.

Clark’s cheeks went completely hot when he saw his ever handsome maestro. “Uhh…” he mumbled while trying to hide his blush. “Well, I just didn’t want to interrupt you two…”

Bruce crossed his arms and grimaced. “So you believe your less disruptive skulking around the halls like some suspicious character?”

Now Clark felt an entirely different kind of heat take his face. Why was Bruce still acting like his typically grumpy self? Didn’t he miss Clark as much as Clark missed him?”

“I’m not skulking, and I’m not suspicious!” Clark defended.

“Tell that to campus security,” Bruce snorted. “Which I’ve had to shoo away at least three times now, notifying them that the questionable man outside my hall isn’t a threat.”

“R-really?” Clark asked, and Bruce just gave the man his usual vexing unreadable smirk.

“So then, why are you ease dropping?” Bruce questioned as he motioned for the man to come inside. “And I assure you _Mr. Kent’s father_ , contrary to popular belief, I’m not subjecting my students to any form of torture.”

“I-I know that!” Clark protested.

“Okay, well then I don’t understand your motivations at all,” Bruce sighed somewhat irritably.

“I told you already, I just didn’t want to disturb you two, that’s all!” Clark continued to explain.

“And yet your not so hidden presence does,” Bruce pointed out. “What with the way I heard you gasping and sighing out in the hall.”

“Well, I didn’t know that until now!” Clark snapped.

“Well, now that you do, you can just skip your poorly executed skulking.”

“I wasn’t _skulking_!” 

“If you say so,” Bruce muttered under his breath.

“Fine, forget it!” Clark growled as he started to turn and leave. To think he’d been so excited to see Bruce. 

“I just won’t bother you two ever again!”

“Wha-”Bruce choked, but Clark had his back to the man and didn’t see the look of panic on his face. “I didn’t say you were bothering us.”

“You just said I was disruptive!” Clark huffed.

“That’s different…” Bruce mumbled somewhat coyly. “I mean, I said you were disruptive, but I didn’t say you were bothersome.”

Now Clark could barely hear the man. 

“What I was saying…that is, what I meant was…” 

Bruce couldn’t even finish his sentence.

Clark started to turn back around before he suddenly felt a pat at his lower back.

When he glanced down, Jon was looking up at him reassuringly.

“Dad,” the boy smiled. “I think what Maestro is saying is, it’s fine if you want to listen inside from now on instead of always waiting outside in the hall.”

Clark’s eyes widened with realization. “Is that what you meant?!”

Bruce didn’t answer and just herded Jon back towards the piano.

“Mr. Kent,” Bruce mumbled while still keeping his eyes away from Clark’s gaze. “As usual, you’re always much more perceptive than your father.” 

Bruce finally lifted his head, and gave Clark a lofty smile before redirecting his attention back onto Jon. 

“In any case, our practice time has well since passed now. I apologize that your last precious moments were _wasted_ at the end.”

“Wasted!” Clark started.

Bruce handed Jon his music folder and then pushed both Kents out his classroom before Clark could finish his thought. 

“Now if you two don’t mind I have my next lesson to prepare for, and I doubt you two want to be late for your appointment.”

For a second, Clark just stared at the door which had been shut in his face with flustered confusion. 

“Geez!” he finally huffed while ruffling his own hair. “Why is he always so… _frustrating_!”

After that, the two of them made their way down the hall, Clark silently grumbling under his breath the entire time.

“Dad.” A quiet voice interrupted.

Clark looked at the boy with question. “Hm?”

“You and Maestro…” Jon trailed before he took a little more time to put his thought together. “You two are _really_ good friends now, huh?”

Clark’s color went pale. “I uh, umm….”

“What makes you say that?” Clark finally asked with a slightly cracked voice.

Jon’s mouth widened into a knowing grin. “Well, you two just seem a lot friendlier now.”

“Also,” Jon added. “Maestro smiles a lot nicer when you’re around.”

Clark’s lips curled. 

“Is that so…” 

Now Clark had a slightly dopey look on his face.

“I’m glad you two are friends now,” Jon smiled when he saw it. Of course he also noticed his dad was smiling a lot nicer too, though that part he kept to himself.

“Heh,” Clark chuckled as he squeezed Jon’s hand. “Me too.”

He then smiled contently as he remembered Bruce’s furious flush before he’d slammed the door in his face. At the moment, Clark couldn’t think of two people in the world who made him feel happier than his sweet loving son and his shy grumpy maestro.

To be continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, there you go. For those of you who waited 16 chapters for the pure romantic fluff, here it is, _finally_ , though I did have to be a little extra dramatic there at the beginning. It’s not entirely my fault though. Bruce is a very difficult character to write sometimes!
> 
> Speaking of which, don’t think these two are just about to quietly ride off into the sunset now. This fic is only about two thirds complete, and we all know if the fic doesn’t end with the romantic confession, there is still plenty of room for trouble ahead.
> 
> Not going to say for sure if there will be, but I do still want to tackle a lot of unsolved problems before ending this fic. Such as Bruce and Damian’s relationship and also Bruce’s reasons for turning his back on the music world (well beyond what he does for his students).
> 
> In any case, I hope everyone will still enjoy the last part of this fic even though it might be a little more focused on Bruce’s past now. Then again, don’t we all want to see everyone heal up nice by the end of this?
> 
> Well, thanks again for all the wonderful comments and kudos and the support that gets me through most days. Unfortunately I will have to put this story on a brief hiatus. 
> 
> I realize I can’t write multiple stories at the same time because writing is just too time consuming and there aren’t enough hours in the day, and right now I want to focus on trying to write something for the Superbat Big Bang coming up.
> 
> For those who haven’t heard, it’s a really wonderful collaboration project done my multiple writers and artists. I’m looking so forward to reading what some of my favorite writers are going to come up with and seeing all the wonderful art that will be created. There are so many talented people leading and participating in this project, so if you want more information on it, check out the page.
> 
> http://superbatbigbang.tumblr.com/guide  
> https://archiveofourown.org/collections/superbatbigbag2017
> 
> As soon as I finish my own fic for this (if I do. Wish me luck), I’ll get back to working on this fic, or if I end up finding extra time, but for how I can say I won’t be updating as frequently as before, but don’t worry, this fic will be finished!
> 
> So as for the title this time, I remember the mention of one particularly famous romance composer, Tchaikovsky. So I waited for the truly fluffy romantic chapter to pick one of his songs. 
> 
> Honestly, some of his songs are so iconic to our current media, such as his particularly famous Romeo and Juliet theme, which I was tempted to use, but at the same time, I have a hard time taking it as seriously now because sometimes it's used in such a cheesy way.
> 
> So in the end I decided to go with Pyotr Ilich Tchaikovsky’s _“Sleep Beauty Waltz”_ (that’s right Disney totally ripped Tchaikovsky’s song though it was appropriately used in the Sleeping Beauty movie) but I went with the Lana Del Rey’s version because the style of this rendition seemed to fit this fic better and reminded me a little more of Bruce (because of course I always imagine the character’s in this fic playing all these songs):  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vYBwlBzK1yo
> 
> Original Rendition of Sleep Beauty Waltz:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-7HvsNTYBqA
> 
> Oh hell, here is the Romeo and Juliet theme. For those who never knew the name you will recognize it immediately, I promise, haha:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9VMCiewc7mE
> 
> This I just added because I was listening to it recently and it made me think of Bruce’s feelings towards Clark. I can just imagine Bruce singing it to Clark maybe one day though he is a shy maestro ;)  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2F8HvKqnp5s


	17. Moonlight Sonata

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s so good to get back to this story! I worked really hard to finish the SBB fic, but the whole time I kept thinking of this one, haha. In any case, thanks to everyone who patiently waited for so long. I promise I’ll be back to regularly updating again. Also thanks again for everyone’s encouragement while I was away. It really kept me motivated to come back to this fic <3

“Well, don’t you seem to be in a good mood, maestro.”

Bruce felt the hairs on his neck stand when he heard the familiar purl. 

He was actually on his way back to his office and typically he would avoid this hall, but he knew Clark was coming to meet him, and he wanted to be there before he arrived.

“Selina, what do you want,” Bruce sighed.

“Bruce, I’m happy for you. I really am,” the woman mused with a wily smirk. “Clark seems like a really nice guy. So don’t do be you and mess up a good deal just because you don’t know how to handle things when they start getting real.”

Bruce slightly faltered when Selina mentioned Clark’s name. How did she know?

Her lips curled at his visible discomfort, and Bruce found himself gritting back. “Really? Is that why _you_ broke up with _me_?”

Now Selina was the one who looked a little nervy but she quickly recovered and smiled. “Yes, actually it was.”

Bruce snorted at her reply and Selina chuckled back.

“It’s okay. No hard feelings, right, Brucie? Why else would I come back to Gotham to teach that _cheeky_ brat of yours?”

Bruce’s heated expression fell at her words. Of course he couldn’t really argue with that even despite everything between them.

“Though I admit, I’m always up for a challenge,” Selina added with a pleased hum. “Speaking of which, that’s what I really wanted to talk to you about.”

Her playful tone turned sober.

“Bruce, Damian really needs an accompanist if he’s going to continue to compete. As the top piano instructor at this school, there has to be someone you can recommend.”

“I…” Bruce’s brow furrowed with even less comfort. “There were a few students I had in mind, but none of them want to work with him. Especially after he nearly broke the hand of one of my top students…”

“I see…” Selina sighed with clear exasperation. She remembered hearing about Damian’s altercation a few weeks back which landed him a nice probation, but she really wasn’t surprised by the news. It was only a matter of time before her volatile pupil resorted to an act of violence.

“Well, Dick’s tour will be moving out of the country soon. He’s not going to be able to fill in much longer.”

“I know,” Bruce grimaced.

“I’ll miss sitting in on Dick and Damian’s sessions though,” Selina tittered while remembering the last several weeks. “I have to admit, even though Dick is one of the finest pianist of his time, he sure knows how to play that kid like a fiddle,” her eyes narrowed in on Bruce. “Just like his poor unsuspecting father.”

“Tch,” Bruce ticked and Selina’s amused expression only grew. 

“I still remember how Dick begged you to take him under your wing even back before you ever dreamed of instructing,” she nodded her head fondly at the memory. “That kid certainly is quite the Wayne charmer, winning all you grumps over,” her eyes went hazy. “He’s grown into such a fine man now,” she brought a finger to her lips and crooned. “Such a dazzling star…”

Bruce’s eyes widened and he growled with warning. “Selina, don’t even think about-”

She erupted into laughter and waved a dismissive hand. “Of course not, my hands are more than full with your impudent spawn,” she pointed at Bruce and gave him a shrewd eye. “In any case, you need to find someone soon or Damian can consider his competition days over.”

********************************************************************

“Hey, Clark,” a voice beamed from down the hall.

Clark nearly jumped when he heard it. 

He wasn’t sure why he suddenly felt on edge. He never did when he used to visit Bruce before, but now that they were actually dating, it almost felt like the two of them were sneaking around.

Of course, Clark didn’t really feel the need to, but Bruce was pretty particular about keeping his personal and work life separate and preferred no one really knew about their relationship at the school.

Admittedly, Clark also hadn’t mentioned anything to Jon either and though he knew his son was wise to their friendship, he still got the impression he didn’t quite understand the exact level of its _intimacy_.

“Dick?” Clark finally answered back as he instantly recognized the person.

He then turned around and smiled. “It’s so good to see you.”

“Likewise,” Dick grinned as he quickened his steps so he could meet the man.

“The festival ended a week ago, but you’re still here in Gotham?” Clark blinked with question.

“Yeah, Bruce asked a favor that I was more than happy to help out with.”

“Oh?” Clark queried. 

“Damian needed an accompanist for his latest qualifier, and since I’ve played with him before, it was something that wasn’t too hard for me to do at such short notice,” Dick’s smile started to wane.

“It’s a shame Damian can’t find an accompanist to fit him here at the GSPA though, especially considering all the top notch students Bruce spits out of this place,” he let out a vexed sigh.

“For whatever reason, Damian doesn’t want to perform with any of Bruce’s students even though they’re the only ones good enough to match him.”

“Maybe he’s intimidated?”

“Damian intimidated by another student?” Dick hooted. “No, I think it’s something a little more personal than that.”

“Ah, that’s too bad…” Clark trailed.

Dick shook his head defensively. “Don’t get me wrong though, Damian isn’t as bad as he seems. He’s actually a lot more sensitive than he lets on, very similar to his dad. It’s just,” the lines around Dick’s forehead furrowed. “The way he was brought up, Damian was always expected to meet these near impossible standards and wasn’t given a lot of room for failure.

Because of that fact, he doesn’t understand the patience that was never given to him, and it doesn’t help that he performs at a higher level than most the students at this school. I mean, he’s about ready to play with the pros and even pushes me around sometimes!”

“Still,” Dick sighed. “The sad fact is…” his smile faded. “I’m not sure how much he actually enjoys it. Sure the violin is his life, but whenever I play with him, it always seems to be about the competition. Even drawing attention and emotion from the audience is just another job to him because he knows that’s what’s expected.”

“Hmm, I guess he and Bruce have a lot in common,” Clark mumbled warily.

“No!” Dick quickly corrected. “Bruce is not like that at all!”

Clark looked back at Dick with wonder at the younger man’s sudden insistence.

Dick laughed a little nervously once he realized what he did, but then started to explain.

“Sure Bruce pushes his students and kills them with speeches about the fundamentals and basics, but that’s just because they still have a lot of room for development and growth, but Bruce as an actual performer is someone entirely different. That is, back when he still used to…”

Dick's face dropped along with his entire demeanor, but at the same time, something reminiscent took his eyes.

“Never in my life have I met a pianist who can pick up any piece of music and play it flawlessly like him.

Bruce definitely proves with enough hard work, practice, and understanding of the music, anyone can learn to play like a pro.”

“Yeah, he told me that’s why he’s so hard on his students,” Clark agreed. “Then after he’s given them the skills and technique, they can play however they wish.”

“Exactly!” Dick exhaled with renewed energy. “Thanks to Bruce, I really feel like I have the capacity to play what’s in my heart now. I don’t have to worry anymore about whether I can or can’t do it!”

Dick closed his eyes and brought a hand over his chest, and Clark felt his own heart skip when he saw the warmth radiating from his face.

“When I’m in front of that piano, all thoughts of whether I will stumble just fade to the back of my mind and the only thing I’m thinking about when I perform is what’s inside my heart. I only have to feel my way through it without any other physical limitations.”

“Ah, yeah,” Clark smiled dreamily as he felt a bit of Dick’s passion. “That’s really something special. Bruce is doing so much good for his students.”

“Yes, for us, but not so much himself,” Dick frowned. “Which really is a shame, considering Bruce is probably the greatest pianist of our time.”

“Oh yeah, I bet,” Clark laughed. “I’ve been to his home before. It was littered with trophies and awards.”

“You’ve been to his house?” Dick asked sharply.

Clark’s face paled. “Umm…”

Dick’s smile curled and Clark knew from his expression he’d been busted. He tried to think of a better cover up, but Dick ended up being the one to change the subject. 

“Well, when it comes to stuff like that, of course it’s no contest for Bruce. Like I said, he knows how to play flawlessly, and that’s what it takes to win competitions. I mean, it’s the whole reason I begged the guy to take me on as his pupil back when I thought that’s all I wanted from this industry.”

Dick nodded his head.

“But no, I mean, have you ever heard Bruce play, like actually _play_?”

“I…” Clark’s face went soft as he remembered the first time he heard Bruce play Lois’s song. The way the man seemed to glow as he sat at the piano was almost ethereal and probably the first thing that drew Clark in.

“Maybe once before…” he finally answered.

“Oh, I _know_ you have,” Dick snickered. “I can tell just by looking at your face. That dreamy look in your eyes, that’s exactly the kind of effect Bruce has on his audience.”

Dick’s eyes darkened.

“Still, when I met Bruce, he didn’t play like that anymore. I actually had no clue he had the capacity until his old instructor Alfred Pennyworth passed away.”

“Oh yeah,” Clark chimed in as he instantly recognized the name. “I heard of him before. He used to be the lead pianist for the Queen’s Royal Orchestra prior to the guy now.” 

“Yeah, Bruce had so much respect for Alfred, we all did.”

Clark saw Dick’s expression change to something similar to the awe and admiration he saw whenever he talked about Bruce. 

“Alfred was actually the former lead instructor at the GSPA and was my first instructor when I enrolled. He was also the one who suggested that I try to get Bruce to take me on as his apprentice.

He used to always say…” Dick cleared his throat and attempted his best British accent. “Young master Richard, your hands cannot keep up with what is inside your heart.” Dick grinned with a sheepish blush realizing he didn’t even come close to the same refined gruffness. “Then he told me about his former student Bruce who had the opposite problem and that the two of us would be a perfect match and could stand to learn a lot form each other.”

Dick’s face turned back to normal.

“In any case, after he passed, Alfred had one dying request, that Bruce play a piece at his funeral. So Bruce ended up performing one of Alfred’s favorite sonatas." 

Dick’s voice broke a little as he reminisced.

“Clark, when I heard him that day…I can’t even begin to describe the feelings it wrung up inside of me,” he clutched the front of his shirt as if he was reliving the moment and his eyes began to get glossy. “Never in my life have I felt such strong emotion from a player, so much so, it gripped onto every heart in that church and wrenched out feelings I didn’t even know existed inside of me.”

Dick wiped at the stray tear threatening to escape and chuckled.

“After that, I became obsessed with Bruce performing again and teaching me how to play like that. Of course, Bruce just continued to go on about basics and fundamentals, and any time I did sit through his performances, despite it being flawless, it never moved me the same.”

Dick slightly shrugged.

“Sure, much like Damian, Bruce knows how to manipulate his audience. That’s just part of being a good performer, but that’s all it ever was, just a _performance_ and nothing more. Nothing like the Bruce I heard that day at the church…”

Dick went silent for a moment. No doubt he was still recalling the memory. It must’ve been something really powerful if it still had such an effect on him now, and when Dick did eventually spoke up again his voice was still a little choked up.

“So I dug a little deeper because there’s no way Bruce playing like that was just a fluke. That’s when I found some old recordings that Alfred packed away. He used to record and save performances of all his past students, and I lucked out and found Bruce’s file.”

Dick turned to Clark directly and looked at him with all the seriousness in the world.

“Clark, when Bruce was younger, he was like an entirely different performer. Sure he didn’t play as flawlessly as he does now, but there was just so much life and energy and every time I listened to his songs, I felt so incredibly moved.”

“Really?” Clark mouthed back with confusion. “Then why did he…what happened to him?”

“I think…”Dick’s mouth flattened. “Maybe it had to do with the passing of his mother.

I don’t know the full details, but as far as Bruce’s relationship goes with his family, the only thing Alfred ever divulged was the fact that it was… _complicated_.”

“In any case,” Dick’s eyes returned to a wistful shade. “I always dream of getting to hear that Bruce perform again. As an instructor I respect him more than I can say and owe my career to him, but as a performer, he is someone I admire and truly wish to aspire to play like.”

“Dick, you already more than do that,” Clark assured. Admittedly he was probably as big a fan of Dick’s music as Jon.

“No, it’s different, Clark!” Dick adamantly insisted. “You’d understand if you heard it.” 

His face lit up and he pulled out his phone. “Actually, I may have had his old performances recorded into mp3 format just so I could have them to listen to.”

Clark couldn’t help but laugh at Dick’s excitement. He really was the epitome of an enthusiastic fanboy. “I see. So you’re Bruce’s underground fan then?”

“Yup,” Dick grinned. “I’ll email them to you sometime. You _have_ to hear them.”

“I’d love nothing more than that,” Clark smiled as he and Dick started to exchange information.

“You know…” Dick mumbled as he tucked his cell back into his pocket. “I really did try to get Bruce to request you write a piece for him. I just kept thinking to myself, if anyone has the ability to bring out Bruce’s true heart into song,” he looked at Clark with a look the former composer recognized all too well. “It would’ve been you.”

“Dick…” Clark murmured. 

Dick saw the pain and guilt reflecting clearly back at him and suddenly changed topics.

“In any case, Bruce ended up taking on Alfred’s position at the GSPA. 

The GSPA always had such a high reputation when Alfred instructed, but when Bruce took over, his results were unbelievable. Almost every one of his former students has made their way big in this field, but the one everyone thought would finally surpass Bruce both in skill and performance was Jason.”

“Jason?” Clark echoed with a scrunched nose.

“Ah yes, Jason!” Clark lauded. “I never met a kid his age with that level of skill, but Jason…” Clark looked confused again. “I never heard from him in this industry again.”

Dick’s expression was now the darkest Clark had ever seen it.

“That’s actually because something terrible happened to him…”

“What?”

Now Dick couldn’t even make eye contact and his voice was deathly still. “It’s actually part of the reason Bruce is the way that he is now.”

“What do you mean?” Clark asked with more alarm.

Dick gripped at the ends of his own blazer as if it was the only way to suppress all his emotions, and in all honesty, doing such a thing was probably the only way he could answer.

“Bruce has always been strict, but at least back when he was my instructor, he was a lot closer to his students, maybe more so than he should have been, but he….he really wanted us all to do well, and he poured out every bit that was left of himself into us…” 

Dick smiled but it was void of anything but sadness and longing, and he still couldn’t seem to lift his head back up when he spoke.

“Back then, Bruce wasn’t just an instructor, he was a _friend_ , but after what happened to Jason…I think Bruce blames himself and since then he’s never been the same.

Now he only addresses his students by their last names and tries to maintain as much personal distance from them as he can. Just like his playing, it’s all just business now…”

Now Clark’s worry was beyond distressed. 

“What happened to Jason?”

Dick’s eyes wandered away from the frantic Clark before suddenly enlarging to an impossible size.

“OH SHIT!”

“What?!” Clark shouted back with just as much alarm.

“I was supposed to meet up with Damian for practice half an hour ago!” he exclaimed while looking at his phone again and noticing the sender for all the missed calls he’d ignored. “I can’t believe I lost this much track of time!”

He gave Clark an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, Clark, but I really have to go. Maybe we can talk again some other time, and I’ll definitely email you those songs.” 

“Ah, okay,” Clark replied a bit anxiously as he watched the panicked Dick wave and dash away.

“Bruce...” Clark mumbled while looking grievously down the empty hall. “What happened to you?”

To be continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel bad that I went so long without updates, and then you get this mostly expositional chapter. It really was mostly set up, but I hope it was still interesting in some way. I’ll try to do another update this week to make up for it if I can ;) Also the next chapter I’ll bring back Jon and Damian (I miss those cuties).
> 
> So as many figured, Bruce’s past isn’t going to be all that happy, also once again I find myself terrorizing Jason. Sorry, but I try to parallel these AUs to the original comics, and what always ends up happening is me picking on him. I did say though his part in this story would play a huge role on Bruce’s past. I mean, it was a pretty big turning point in the comics…
> 
> Anyways, thanks again for those of you still sticking with this story, and I hope you enjoy it to the end! I really will try to wrap up everything nicely but there's still so much joy and heartache left for everybody till then :)
> 
> The chapters title is in honor of the late maestro Pennyworth and it's the song Bruce played at his funeral ;)  
> Beethoven - Moonlight Sonata - Piano Sonata No. 14: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4Tr0otuiQuU


	18. Allegro non troppo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must admit. I got really excited because this is a chapter I've wanted to share for awhile, so I managed to get an update out a lot faster than usual. Please enjoy :D

“Where the hell is he!” the boy snarled. He then hit send on his phone unleashing a more than colorful message to its recipient.

“That witless Grayson, I bet he got held up talking to some fan or another woman,” Damian seethed as he slammed his cell down on a nearby stand. “Doesn’t he realize how important my time is?”

Damian glared in the direction of the boy sitting at the piano beside him and gritted lowly. “And of course he pulls this stunt on the day you come to see him,” Damian’s face went red with even more outrage. He then snatched up the phone again and started to pound on the screen furiously. “I’ll call him one more time and let him know what a- ”

“Aww, don’t worry about it Damian,” Jon assured. After the last message he heard, he was starting to feel more than a little sorry. “I mostly just came because I was curious to hear the two of you play together,” worry furrowed his face. “I hope that everything is alright though and nothing serious happened on his drive over…”

“Doubtful,” Damian snorted. “This is not the first time Grayson’s pulled a stunt like this. Last time I found him babbling in the hall with some woman he was flirting with.”

“Ah, I see…” Jon mumbled. He’d heard of master Grayson’s reputation before but never imagined he’d one day confirm it.

“Well, I’m just sorry you won’t be able to practice now,” Jon honestly replied. Even though he was just trying to change the subject, he also understood how important these practices were to his roommate. “I know your schedule is pretty tight around competition time, and you’re involved in so many more than me. The one I just competed in was actually my first real one.”

Damian’s scowl turned to a haughty smirk. “Yes, and you did a spectacular job showing up all your third rate persecutors. I knew you would do nothing less.”

Jon looked towards the floor and hid his blush. “Ah, thank you so much Damian. Hearing you say that means more to me than my actual score. “

“I…” now Damian was the flush one. “Well I’m no piano expert…” he mumbled while darting his eyes restlessly away and eventually snorting. “Your score should mean more, but from what I heard, you are in a level well above theirs.”

“From what you heard?” Jon questioned. “Does that mean you went to my competition?”

Now Damian’s face had gone from crimson to white. “I…well…I just,” he stammered in a panic. “I just happened to chance by the hall, and since they held it here…”

“Thank you so much, Damian!” Jon beamed and once again Damian couldn’t find the nerve to face his bright expression. 

“You know, I’ve sat through a few of yours too…well actually all of your local ones.”

“You have?” Damian blurted before realizing he sounded a little too excited. He then quickly twisted his mouth into and unconvincing frown. “Why would you do something like that? These competitions aren’t performances. My concerts are much more impressive to listen to for entertainment.”

“Yeah, I guess you can say that,” Jon shrugged. “But I love hearing you play, and it’s so interesting to hear you change your style to fit the right situation.”

“I…” Damian’s voice lowered with his eyes. “I appreciate your sentiment…Jon…”

After that Damian didn’t speak for a while and seemed to be mulling something over in his head. Jon wasn’t exactly sure what Damian was debating, but he was glad the older boy’s earlier mood had improved.

“Well…” Jon started before pausing and swallowing on nothing. “I know I’m not anywhere near master Richard’s level, but…” Damian looked back at Jon with question and saw that he looked extremely nervous. Damian then narrowed his eyes signifying he wanted Jon to get to the point which caused Jon to blurt out his thought in one fast breath. “Maybe I can help you practice today?”

“Wha-what?” Damian balked.

“Maestro’s made me accompany before, so I have some experience at it,” Jon quickly continued before Damian could respond. “Maybe I won’t do that great or be able to keep up with you, but we can at least give it a try?”

It came out as more of a question than an offer, and Jon’s heart was pumping fast as he waited for Damian to reply. The boy was still staring at him with his always piercing azures but also had a stupefied expression on his face.

“I…” Damian looked like he was in pain for a moment before he closed his eyes and grunted. “I don’t see what harm it would do. I just need someone to accompany for today’s practice. That’s all.” 

“Really?!” Jon’s face was even brighter than before.

Damian answered by slamming his music folder on the piano stand in front of Jon so that it was on the page he wanted to play and muttered lowly. “Try to keep up.”

“I will!” Jon nodded vigorously.

Damian still seemed a bit uneasy which only intimidated Jon more, but Damian’s attitude wasn’t exactly for the reasons that he thought.

Without another word, Damian turned his back to Jon and started to tune his instrument. Sure he’d already done so several times while waiting on Dick, but it also gave Jon a little time to warm up as well.

As he continued his routine, Damian’s face twisted and became as furled as his thoughts.

_‘He’s one of father’s pupils but…he’s also…’_

Damian’s expression tempered.

_‘…my friend…’_

He shook his head and then readied his bow before glancing over at Jon and signifying he was ready to play.

Jon instantly straightened up before looking back and nodding his acknowledgement. He then inhaled deeply before closing his eyes. When he reopened them, they were completely clear and determined and his entire demeanor transformed into something solid and resolute.

The introduction was his, and how he played it would set the entire mood. There was no way he could let Damian down.

As soon as his hands touched the keys, his fingers were racing off and not moments later Damian was chasing after him.

Jon felt his pulse race when he heard the whine of the violin dogging mercilessly behind, as if it was hounding after him until eventually Damian was the one leading the race. Jon was nearly overrun, his own desperate strums turning into nothing more than mere echoes of the violin. 

Jon leaned in closer, licking his lips and reaching deep into the depth of his skill. He’d never played with someone quite at this level before but at the same time, it almost felt like he’d done it a hundred times before. How many nights did he sit in his bed and listen to Damian practice? Countless afternoons spent hiding within the foliage at the clearing where Damian would play.

Always watching and listening as a spectator, wishing and hoping to participate and now the time had come. Finally Jon was experiencing it with him, and he planned to take the moment for everything it was worth.

Back and forth they went piano and violin dancing together in a melodic duel and Jon ever carefully watching Damian the entire time. Fingers flying, bow gliding, breath fast and sharp, the boy was completely in tune with his violin.

They were one and Jon couldn’t help but feel jealous, left out. He had to try harder, push further, keep up, and just as he started to reach the edge of his own limits, the song changed tempo and Jon could breathe again. 

He didn’t even realize he’d been holding his breath until he let out a deep exaltation. 

Time to recollect, they were only halfway done. Jon barely had time to recover before they were taking off again.

Damian side glanced and saw Jon furiously thrumming on the keys. Their eyes then locked and something in Damian’s chest skipped. Jon’s sapphires were unbelievably intense. Had they always been that blue? 

A small sound of amusement and then a smirk of acknowledgement was all Jon saw before Damian redirected his attention and headed towards the finale. 

Jon had to finish strong. This was his chance to finally convey to Damian the feelings his music always stirred within him. 

Damian his roommate, his friend, the musician he looked up to, but also the one he wished to rival. If only he could make it to the end, and then, just as the song began, it ended with the sound of a piano echoing the hall.

Their breaths seemed louder than they really were, Jon’s gaze still fixed on Damian who now had a bit of sweat trickling from his brow.

Damian looked at Jon again and then saw those crystal clear azures widen with excitement.

“That was so much fun!” Jon cheered. “Damian, you have no idea how much I’ve always wanted to play with you!”

Fun? Was that the strange sensation in his chest? He’d never experienced this kind of emotion after playing before? Was that what he should call it?

“How did you do that?” Damian questioned sharply. 

Jon’s expression fell with confusion and looked a little injured. “Huh?”

“You were...” Damian attempted to clarify. He didn’t mean to sound so harsh. “We were….” He didn’t know what to say.

“AMAZING!” someone answered for him and then there was loud applause filling the arena.

Damian recognized the voice.

“Grayson?” 

“Master Richard!” Jon exclaimed.

“I can’t believe it!” Dick lauded. He then hurried towards the pair. “Is this the first time you two ever played together?”

“Y-yes,” Jon answered.

Dick practically hopped onto the stage and Jon could see the glossed over look of awe still in his eyes.

“No way!” Dick laughed. “What I just heard was not a pianist playing with Damian for the first time. You two were incredible!”

Jon’s face lit up even more. “You really think so?” 

“Most definitely,” Dick smiled proudly. “Then again, I expect nothing less from one of Bruce’s students.”

Jon’s grin widened to the size of his face at Dick’s praise.

“So you thought I did okay too?” Jon asked while looking back towards Damian.

The young violinist’s cheeks were now puffy and his nostrils were flaring. Why did Jon always have to look at Dick like that? The grandstander didn’t deserve so much esteem, and for that matter, why did he even care?

Damian quickly withdrew his eyes from Jon’s entreating gaze and muttered.

“For our first time together it wasn’t terrible, especially considering your condition…”

Jon deflated a little. “Oh…”

Honestly he thought Damian would’ve been a little more excited, but maybe Jon hadn’t done as well as he thought.

“Well, Maestro’s been trying to teach me how to accompany despite my hearing disability,” Jon started to explain. “I guess I probably would’ve done better if I could hear more properly…”

Jon lowered his head more.

“Usually before accompanying with anyone, I listen to several of their practices to get a feel for their style. Maestro also told me to watch the performers rather than my own fingers because everyone always has their own physical cues and tics.”

He rubbed the back of his neck and smiled at Dick weakly. 

“It was a little difficult at the beginning, but it’s something I guess I’ve always subconsciously done.”

“But that would mean you already have this piece memorized?” 

Jon nodded at Dick. “Actually yeah, it’s a song Maestro’s made me practice a lot. I can play it in my sleep now.”

Dick’s smile curled a little at this information and he snickered to himself. “So that’s how things are, Bruce…”

Jon blinked at Dick with question. He didn’t exactly hear what he said.

Dick didn’t clarify and merely changed the subject.

“So just from watching Damian you were able to follow him?” 

“Well, yeah, Jon half laughed. “I‘ve listened to him play a million times now so I already know his style, but also being his roommate for so long and now his friend…”

“You were able to read him so well,” Dick finished with a knowing smile. “Wow, Jon. That’s amazing. You‘re amazing!”

“Thank you so much, Master Richard!” Jon beamed. “Hearing you say that means so much to me!”

“Dick,” he corrected. “Just call me Dick.”

“Oh well, Master….err,” he smiled brightly. “Okay Dick!”

Damian let out loud a frustrated huff which drew everyone’s attention back to him.

“Well, I guess me showing up late ended up being a blessing in disguise,” Dick nodded proudly.

“Don’t even try to worm your way out your own mistakes, Grayson!” Damian snapped. “You know showing up late was irresponsible and careless!”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, Damian. I know,” Dick sighed wearily. “It’s not like I didn’t get it after the first forty voicemails you left me.”

“Ttt!” Damian ticked.

“Still,” Dick’s smile returned. “Because of my mistake, I think you found yourself a new accompanist!”

*********************************************

“I heard Jon is going to be Damian’s new accompanist,” Clark casually commented.

Currently he and Bruce were sitting on his couch together watching a movie neither was paying attention to.

It was the first time Bruce decided to come and visit him at his apartment, and Clark had been a little surprised that the maestro suggested it. In honor of the occasion, Clark ended up cooking dinner. Sure it wasn't anything spectacular, but after spending so many years as a single father, he’d picked up more than a few skills, and Bruce actually seemed impressed.

After that, they were going to go out, but Bruce somehow ended sprawling out on Clark’s couch and saying he was too comfortable to leave. He then patted on the seat cushion beside him signaling for Clark to join.

Clark was more than a little touched by the scene. Who would’ve thought after all this time Bruce would finally warm up to him? When he joined him, Bruce even scooted closer so the two of them could lean against each other.

Clark didn’t realize how much he missed this kind of small gesture, so simple yet intimate. Just quietly enjoying the company of someone he held dear. After all these years had he finally earned this right? Was this something he really deserved?

Bruce was steadily dozing off. He’d honestly been pretty worn out from a long week, but he didn’t want to break off his date with Clark. Especially considering the fact this weekend Jon wouldn’t be visiting due to a volunteer project at the school. It seemed like the perfect opportunity for Bruce to finally see his place and of course he had a few _ulterior_ motives. 

When he heard Clark’s statement, he mumbled back.

“Yes, very fortunately that does seem to be the case now.”

“Jon was so excited,” Clark chuckled as he remembered his son’s cheerful voice. “I swear he talked my ear off about it for hours last night,” 

“I’m glad,” Bruce yawned while nestling a little closer. Clark was so warm. Maybe he would just sleep tonight.

“Jon could hardly believe how well the two of them played together.”

“Mmm,” Bruce shrugged while closing his eyes.

“You don’t seem surprised. I wonder...” Clark paused before looking down to study Bruce’s face. “Was this all something you planned?”

“Not exactly,” Bruce haphazardly answered. “At least not at the beginning…”

Clark pulled away slightly so he could see Bruce’s expression more clearly. “Wait, I was just kidding, but you’re serious?”

Bruce's brow stitched at the loss of his warm pillow. “Well, Damian always had difficulties with other students, but I realized this was largely due to the fact that he hardly ever socialized with any peers near his age.

Most his music career he’s just played with older professionals, people that his grandfather either hired or groomed solely for him.”

Bruce’s eyes sharpened as he slowly started to sober up and think on what he was saying.

“Still, considering his future, Damian needs to learn how to get along with other musicians. We don’t always get to pick and choose who we play with.”

He sifted a finger through his hair and finally sat up.

“In any case, when I found out about Jon’s rooming issue, I thought I could use both situations to everyone’s advantage. That’s why I arranged for Jon to room with Damian in hopes that Damian could learn how to get along with a peer his own age.”

“So my son was basically some kind of a social experiment?” Clark grunted.

“Clark, don’t be so touchy,” Bruce sighed. “Had I not done so, Mr. Kent would have never managed a room. So in the end, it was advantageous to everyone.”

“I guess,” Clark mumbled with a slightly perturbed look. “But still…”

Bruce felt Clark inch a little further away. No doubt Clark was still bothered by Bruce’s calculated efforts. It was probably best he didn’t mention how he may have had Jon practice some accompanying pieces that coincided with Damian’s repertoire.

He then tried a little harder to explain himself.

“After meeting Mr. Kent, I knew my choice had been even better than expected. Your son has this way at looking at music and life with such pure insight, not to mention his level of patience is almost unnatural.”

He shifted so he was facing Clark.

“I didn’t think the two of them would end up becoming friends, but I guess not even Damian could resist his charm.”

The corner of Clark’s mouth tugged a little at the praise. “Yeah, us Kents sure are charming.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Bruce snorted. “It won’t get you anywhere.”

“Oh is that so?” Clark grinned before turning to face Bruce and leaning in closer. “I think it’s gotten me pretty far with one particular Wayne.”

“Pff!” Bruce scoffed as he pushed Clark’s face away so he could deny the approaching kiss. “It was your writing abilities that got you this far _Mr. Kent’s father_ , and everything after that was just your relentless _overbearing_ persistence.”

“You say persistence I say charm,” Clark chuckled. “Even if my music is the thing that got my foot in the door.”

“Hmm,” Bruce mused thoughtfully. Suddenly sleep was the last thing on his mind, especially considering the dopey but somehow charming smile Clark was sporting. Who would have thought such a silly expression would start having so much power over Bruce?

He brought a hand to Clark’s thigh. “I wonder though, Mr. Kent’s father? What kind of song would you have written for me?”

He brought their foreheads together.

“A prelude?”

His fingers slid further up Clark’s leg.

“A waltz?”

Their lips drew closer.

“A ballad?”

“Bruce…” Clark’s eyes drifted away with shame. “I don’t know…I wish I did, but…I can’t write it out anymore.”

“It’s okay, Clark,” Bruce smiled as he lifted Clark’s chin with one hand so he could meet his comforting gaze. “It’s not as though I can play it for you properly anyways.”

He kissed the top of Clark’s head, and then started to climb into his lap.

“But I can at least show you.”

“Bruce!” Clark yelped as he was suddenly pushed onto his back and straddled by the maestro.

“Let me reveal to you the truth of my heart,” Bruce sighed as he started to unbutton his own shirt. “With this body of mine…” he grabbed Clark’s wrist and brought his hand to his now bare chest before sliding it down his body. “The notes you can’t transcribe, and the music I can’t play,” he leaned in so their breaths were mingling. “I will express it to you in its rawest form.”

Clark was pulled in for a very violent and passionate kiss. Teeth nipping and gnashing, tongue exploring and lapping, completely dominating and ravenous with need.

Clark couldn’t get his clothes off soon enough as Bruce bucked into him impatiently.

“Bruce,” Clark whined as he felt a hand slip underneath his pants and slowly start to stroke him.

Bruce hummed a little with triumph at all the pleasant sighs and keens. 

Clark’s breath was strangled and hot against his neck. Bruce could feel every shudder, hear every groan. Clark was so close and completely at his mercy, and just as he felt himself being pushed past the edge, Bruce finally released him from his blissful torture.

Then Bruce’s mouth was back on his, bruising Clark’s lips, ravishing his mouth, drinking in Clark’s flavor.

Then Bruce started to intertwine their legs and grind their bodies together.

“Clark.”

The man didn’t need any other words to understand Bruce’s plea.

Large hands smoothed down Bruce’s back before thumbing at the material still covering his hips and then easing him out of his pants.

Bruce gasped when his arousal was finally sprung free, fluid desire leaking all over both their stomachs.

Bruce then moaned when he felt a steady touch wrap around his length. Then fingers drenched with his own slick started to work his entrance all while simultaneously milking out more pleasured sounds.

Clark had come a long way from the inexperienced widower he once knew, and even though this was probably only their fourth encounter, his hands already knew how to drive Bruce wild.

“ _Bruce_ ,” Clark called out as he kissed the maestro's shoulder. Bruce wasn’t breathing anymore and seemed to be caught in a daze.

Slowly he drifted out his euphoria and blinked his foggy eyes back open.

Then there was another lazy kiss before he was pulling away and causing Clark’s fingers to slip out. 

The distance wasn’t far though and he only slightly lifted on his knees before lining himself up and slowing settling onto Clark.

They both gasped out.

“Gawd Bruce…” Clark hissed, his nails nearly breaking the skin at Bruce’s hips as he struggled to guide him along his way.

The heat wrapping around him was maddening and he was slowly becoming undone.

“ _Clark_.” 

Now it was Bruce pulling Clark from his haze. “Look at me,” he commanded. 

Clark just nodded unable to find any words of reply. He was too entranced by Bruce’s perfect form silhouetted against the moonlight.

It wasn’t long though before his voice returned but it wasn’t anything tangible, just a chorus of heavy pants and sighs as Bruce rode above him, Clark’s own body driving up to meet him and deepening their connection.

Bruce knew his end was fast approaching and he frantically reached between them and started to pump his own leaky cock in time with their thrust.

Once again strong hands found a place at Bruce’s waist, steadying the maestro and supporting him, but Bruce quickly pulled them away and coaxed them so they were exploring every inch of his body instead.

Clark happily complied as he started to work his fingers all over Bruce’s body, savoring in the feel of his skin and teasing his abs and nipples.

He could feel Bruce’s muscles twitch around him, and the speed of their grind started to become more erratic and frenzied.

“Bruce…” Clark started to sit up and Bruce was seeing white when the shift caused him to hit the perfect spot.

After that their bodies were coming together in perfect time. Voices crying out in harmony, singing a song that neither could play or write, but knowing it was exactly what both felt in the deepest part of their beings.

Clark heard the sound of his own name in his ear as Bruce finally found his release. Clark attempted to pull out, but Bruce refused to let him go and growled. “Not this time.”

After that, Clark was following Bruce suite and with a low keen he whispered something sweet for only Bruce to hear.

Bruce wrapped his arms tighter around Clark and rode out both their orgasms.

After that, they both collapsed into each other completely spent and exhausted, a hot embrace the only thing keeping them both up.

Eventually though, Clark’s breath and mind returned to him, and he pulled out.

“Geez, Bruce,” he started to apologize as he felt the mess between them. “I’m sorry, I-”

“Shut up,” Bruce ordered with a finger to Clark’s mouth. He then thumped the man over the head before capturing his lips in another heated kiss.

******************************************************

For some reason, Clark got up early that morning.

After the night he had, he expected to sleep in, but like clockwork his body woke up at the same time it usually would’ve. 

Bruce was still fast asleep tucked away under the sheets. Later that night Clark had carried him to bed, Bruce mumbling in protest about being held in such a way, but not exactly fighting it either.

_‘Bruce…’_

For a few moments, Clark just admired the stunning vision lying next to him. He thought about caressing Bruce’s face, wanting badly to touch him, but at the same time, he didn’t want to wake him either.

Instead he just quietly slipped out of bed, and smiled at the thought of the kind of face Bruce would make after he surprised him with breakfast in bed.

Clark yawned and stretched as he walked down the hall, but flinched when he felt a numb ache in his lower back. Their sex life was amazing but always so rough, not that Clark was really complaining.

That’s when he noticed his phone sticking out of the couch cushions.

“Oh crap,” he silently cursed. He then started to plug it into a nearby wall charger before he noticed a message.

_‘Ah, Dick’s email!’_

He quickly opened it and read it.

_Hey Clark. Seeing as how you’re Bruce’s new “special” friend, I think you more than anyone should listen to this. Please continue to take care of Bruce, okay._

Clark chuckled a little when he saw the big heart emoji at the end of the message before quickly making his way into his office.

He took special care to plug in his headphones so he wouldn’t wake Bruce, and then started to listen to the first downloaded file.

The song barely made it past the introduction before Clark was trembling and mouthing out. “This is…”

_‘Breathtaking…’_

*******************************************

“Clark,” Bruce mumbled as he walked into the room. 

When he woke up that morning he felt a cold empty space in place of his large warm boyfriend. After that, he started to search the apartment for Clark. He was in desperate need of some coffee and was only half asleep. Luckily the apartment was still dark and he noticed the computer light from Clark’s office.

Bruce’s alarm rose though when he saw Clark’s face. “Clark, what wrong? Why are you crying?!”

Clark didn’t seem to hear or notice him and just had a hand to his mouth that he was quietly sobbing into it. Bruce immediately rushed over to Clark’s side and shook him by the shoulders.

“Clark!”

Clark’s glossed over eyes blinked awake.

“AH!” he shouted with a startled jump before falling out his chair.

In the process the headphone jack was yanked out the speaker.

Bruce’s eyes went wide.

“What are you…” his lower jaw began to quiver with realization. “What are you listening to?”

“Bruce, this…” Clark still seemed a bit shaken. “I didn’t know you could play like _this_!” he exclaimed before wiping at the tears still brimming his eyes. “I’m sorry but I need a minute to collect myself…”

Clark’s current emotional state seemed to be the least of Bruce’s worries as he crossed his arms and snapped. “Where did you get this recording from?”

“Oh, well, Dick-”

“Dick?!” Bruce exploded.

Clark shrank a little at his outrage, but started to explain again. “Yeah, Dick sent it to me-”

“Unbelievable!” Bruce shouted as he threw his hands into the air. “So the two of you have been _scheming_ behind my back?”

“Scheming?” Clark echoed with obvious confusion and offense. “We just had a little talk.”

“Exactly!” Bruce snapped.

“Bruce, please calm down,” Clark tried to reason as he reached for Bruce’s hand.

Bruce immediately slapped him away and pointed at Clark’s chest. “Clark, I told you already not to get mixed up in my affairs!”

“Don’t get myself mixed up?” Clark repeated with disbelief. “Bruce I think at this point you and I are a little more than simply _mixed_ up with each other.”

Bruce let out a frustrated sound and then started to make his way out the door before he was suddenly caught by the wrist.

“Bruce, wait. I’m sorry,” Clark apologized. “It wasn’t as though I was trying to intentionally pry into your past, but at the same time…”

He forced Bruce to turn back around and face him.

“Bruce, I love you, and I want to get to know everything about you. Not just the good but also everything else that comes along with you.”

“Clark…” Bruce sighed as he suddenly felt powerless under Clark’s soft reassuring gaze and gentle plea.

He then shook his head with defeat before poking the space between Clark’s brow and huffing.

“I tend to forget what a troublesome man you can be Mr. Kent’s father.”

“Yeah, but now I’m _your_ troublesome man,” Clark smiled as he sat back down and pulled Bruce into his lap.

“And yet you take every opportunity to remind me of what a _frustrating_ fool you are.”

“Yeah, I guess I do constantly remind you of this,” Clark laughed.

“Stop being so agreeable,” Bruce snorted with a scrunched nose. 

“Why? Because it makes it hard for you to stay mad?”

For a long moment, Bruce didn’t reply and just continued to frown deeply at Clark.

Clark embraced the man tighter and nuzzled his face into Bruce’s neck. “Well, there is another way I know how to make things up”.

“Oh?” Bruce chuckled at both the action and the provocation. He then slinked down lower into the man’s lap so their eyes were level.

Clark grinned back at Bruce proudly and answered. “I will cook you one of my Ma’s world famous breakfasts”.

Bruce’s smile dropped and his voice fell flat. “Oh…”

“What?” Clark questioned with his usual cluelessness.

Bruce shook his head and sighed. “Nothing.”

He smirked and Clark wryly. “Very well then, let’s see if you can _impress_ me beyond my earlier expectations...”

“Oh I will,” Clark assured before kissing the maestro sweetly.

To Be Continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly listened to the song Damian and Jon played together over and over until the entire scene was complete. I don’t know if I did a very good job of describing what I was hearing. Honestly it was difficult trying to bring words to such a beautiful piece of music, but I hope someone out there at least got a fraction of what I was trying to convey. It really did end up being the perfect duet for them.
> 
> Also, I may have made myself like the DamiJon pairing a little more. Now I got all kinds of cute ideas for an epilogue involving these two. I keep forgetting how intimate playing together can be. I also very much enjoy jealous Damian all confused about his feelings. 
> 
> Well, this story is still just about their budding friendship. Speaking of which, I didn’t imagine I would enjoy SuperSons so much. I don’t think I predicted Jon’s personality right. He's a lot more outspoken when it comes to Damian’s assery (is this a word?), lol. Oh well, it’s okay, I wrote out this version of Jon before I knew and let’s just say he's a little more withdrawn due to his disability.
> 
> Okay well, back to Bruce and Clark. I’m glad I got to throw in some sweet moments for them. Clark’s dorkiness is rubbing off onto Bruce and now they have such a dopey relationship. I’m glad I could make these characters happy for a short moment, but there's still more than a handful of chapters left, and who’s ever read a romance story where the two characters stay that way after realizing their feelings so far before the ending? Okay, I’ll stop with the teasing, but thank you so much again for reading this story and for all the encouragement. Hope you will join for the next chapter!
> 
> The song Damian and Jon played together:
> 
> Saint Saens Violin Concerto No.3 mvt. 1 (Allegro non troppo): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3cLclrAxiCw


	19. Barcarolle

He shouldn’t have saved the files onto his phone. If Bruce ever found out, he would be upset. Then again, at the very heart of this former composer lied a man who loved music from the deepest part of his being.

At one point in his life, his entire career revolved around bringing out the essence of every musician into the form of song. Truly he believed music was alive, living and breathing with a soul of its own. Reaching out and moving everyone that it touched. 

That’s why whenever Clark encountered such a beautifully played song, he always felt so shaken. To think an artist could interpret a song that wasn’t even written for them and make it their own. He could always hear it, feel it through their performances, the soul of those musicians, and the one he listened to now, as he sat quietly weeping alone at the back of his son’s school cafeteria, was the song of a passionate player who’d lost his voice, and Clark was obsessed.

Why did Bruce stop playing? How could someone so attune with the music just one day quit. Sure Clark lost the ability to write, but that part of him was broken, buried under a sea of guilt and regret. Still, despite everything, he never lost his love and appreciation for the music.

No something about Bruce was different. Also, he couldn’t forget Bruce’s past words. 

_‘I hate the piano.’_

Was someone who once played like he was one with the piano, someone who perfectly interpreted Lois’s song, someone who could transform something as simple as Heart in Soul, had he really lost the love? 

“Clark?” a concerned voice called out.

He barely heard her. Even despite his earphones not being turned up very loud, he was too caught up in what he was listening to. 

The woman tapped his shoulder. “Clark, are you okay?”

Clark’s eyes blinked into awareness as he was suddenly brought out of his daze. 

“Selina?”

The woman who usually smiled at him as if she was liable to eat him up was now looking at him with wide concern.

“Did something happen with you and Bruce?” she asked.

“Ah…” Clark was still at a loss and started to wipe the tears from his cheeks. “No, I just…”

He tore off his earphones.

She eyed them warily and slowly began to piece together what was going on.

“What are you listening too?” She asked, but then she froze when she heard it, and her mouth fell open.

“Is this…” Even though she could only faintly hear it, nostalgia filled in the rest. 

“Is that Bruce?”

“I…” Clark was confused. “How did you know?” 

Selina’s worried gaze turned dark.

“Because you don’t ever forget the sound of someone like Bruce.”

“So you’ve heard him play in person before?” 

“Oh yeah,” Selina sighed. “All the time, back when we were still young.”

Clark suddenly grabbed Selina by both her shoulders and forced her to face his frantic eyes. “So the two of you have known each other that long? You were friends with _this_ Bruce?”

“I…” Selina was flabbergasted by Clark’s enthusiasm. “Yes…I _was_ …”

“What happened to him? Why did he…”

Clark couldn’t even finish the sentence and caught himself. He then realized what he was doing and let the woman go.

For a moment, the two of them just sat silent facing each other, though Clark was avoiding her eyes.

“Bruce doesn’t want to tell you, does he?” Selina eventually asked.

“No…” Clark sighed as he remembered their argument from a few nights back.

“That’s just like him,” Selina huffed. “Always showing his back to everyone, I swear that man…”

She looked at Clark thoughtfully.

“You really care about Bruce, huh?”

“Of course!” Clark immediately answered.

“And you want him to be happy?”

“More than anything!”

She bit the inside of her cheek and started to deliberate.

“Fine, I’ll tell you what happened.”

“What?!” Clark exclaimed with a renewed sense of energy.

She flicked him on the forehead successfully calming him back down. 

He rubbed is head and looked up at her.

“Knowing the type of guy I’m sure you are, once I tell you, you won’t be able to back down.”

She smiled at him capriciously. “But at the same time I wonder…can you wake him back up?”

“I…” Clark lowered his gaze. “I don’t know, but if I could at least understand him a little better, maybe I can help...”

“Hmm,” Selina hummed. “You aren’t the first person to say something similar…”

“Huh?”

“Fine,” Selina shrugged as she sat down beside him and started to get comfortable. “I’ll spill, but just remember, you asked for it. Also, you’re buying me lunch.”

******************Age Nine*******************

“Bruce,” the man beckoned as he strode down the hall. The closer he got to his destination the quicker his steps became. 

“Bruce!” he called out furiously when he entered the main parlor.

His face furrowed when the object of his search was nowhere to be found. 

“Where is that boy?” he mumbled to himself. He could’ve sworn this is where his son had gotten to. This is where he always was around this time of day.

The woman at the piano blinked up at her husband with question. “Thomas?”

The man’s vexed expression softened and he looked back at her. “Martha, have you seen Bruce?” the angry wrinkles around his brow started to creep back. “He never showed up for his midday lesson and instructor Harris is furious.”

“Oh goodness,” the woman quietly gasped before searching around the room. She then looked at her husband sympathetically. “No, I haven’t seen him all day.”

Thomas let out a frustrated breath. “I swear, Martha, sometimes that boy doesn’t seem to understand the importance of his studies. How is he expected to one day run this company if he can’t manage to be punctual and keep to a schedule?”

Martha let out a light laugh and smiled towards her husband reassuringly. “He’s a young nine year old boy, Thomas. I think the last thing on the mind of any child his age is running Wayne Enterprises.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s true,” Thomas sighed as he sat down at the bench where his wife was patting. “But there is a time to play and a time to work.”

Martha leaned into her husband and gave him gave him a one-armed hug.

“In any case,” Thomas muttered while still trying to sound upset but gathering no steam considering his wife was now rubbing his back and relieving all his tension. “If you find him, let him know that I will have some words for him.”

“Okay dear,” Martha hummed as she kissed his cheek.

Thomas snorted and stood up, but it sounded more like a grunt of resignation than one of irritation.

Martha just smiled and watched as he eventually left the room. The moment his footsteps were out of range, she stood up and made her way to a nearby cabinet.

She then squatted down and opened the lower compartment doors revealing a small raven-haired boy who was curled up and fast asleep.

“Bruce,” she whispered while gently rubbing his back. “Bruce darling, wake up.”

A flash of azure puzzlement clouded with drowsy disorientation blinked back at her.

“Mmm?” the boy garbled while rubbing his eyes. “M-mom?”

Martha’s grin widened. “Bruce, what are you doing here?”

“Oh, I didn't want to interrupt your practice, and I guess I accidentally fell asleep,” the boy yawned while finally sitting up and stretching.

Martha’s smile didn’t falter. “Bruce, do you realize what time it is.”

Blue was swallowed by white as Bruce’s lids flew completely open and his eyes widened.

“OH NO! My afternoon lesson!” He exclaimed while jumping to his feet and looking at the adjacent grandfather clock. “I missed it!” 

His color turned slightly pale. “Dad is going to be so mad!”

“Yes, he is,” Martha agreed.

Bruce’s shoulders slumped at her remark before he felt a soft hand hold his own. “But he will calm down by the time he sees you.”

Bruce met gazes with his mother who was kneeling in front of him smiling at him with all the assurance in the world.

“Don’t worry, Bruce. What’s done is done. Just make sure in the future you learn from your mistakes and try not to repeat them. That kind of apology will mean so much more to people than mere words.”

“Okay,” Bruce smiled back with renewed optimism.

Martha squeezed his palm and then stood up.

“Well, Professor Harris has already gone home for the day.”

Bruce’s head fell with shame. “Oh…”

“But we shouldn’t let the study period go to waste,” Martha added before sitting at the piano. “How about you play a few chords?”

Bruce’s face instantly lit up. “Really?!”

Martha nodded and opened up a nearby music book. “Yes, let’s pick up where we left off last time.”

“Okay!” Bruce sung as he practically jumped onto the seat beside her.

*****************************Age Ten***************************

“Bruce, you were wonderful!” The woman cheered while clapping her hands.

“Really? You think so?” the boy exhaled back.

His breath was a little ragged and no matter how deeply he inhaled his heart wouldn’t still. It didn’t help that the audience applause was still sounding from the stage he just left, causing his adrenaline to rush further.

“I know so, dear,” Martha smiled.

Bruce’s nose slightly wrinkled. “You’re just saying that because you’re my mom.”

“Maybe,” Martha chuckled before kneeling down and giving him a big hug. “But I can’t help it, Bruce. I’m your number one fan!”

“ _Mom_ ,” Bruce groaned behind a rather large grin and feverish blush.

Martha reluctantly pulled away and started to straighten up his suit. “Okay well you better get ready for your group’s finale performance, but I’ll be waiting for you right in the front row.”

“Okay!” Bruce beamed before he ran off to meet several orchestra members near his age.

Martha watched him with pride before standing to her feet and smoothing out her dress.

“So Alfred, what do you think?” she asked to the man coming up beside her.

“I think Bruce is a remarkable musician. I can tell he is your son.” 

“Oh, I’m so glad to hear you say that,” Martha smiled as she turned to face her stoic companion. “Of course I always thought he was too, but I was afraid I was only listening to him through the ears of a mother.”

Alfred nodded. “No, he is a very talented young pianist, but Martha, that is exactly what he is, a _young_ pianist.”

Alfred’s gaze narrowed in Bruce’s direction, and he had a thoughtful look in his eyes.

“Though he plays truly from the heart and with skill beyond his age, his immaturity still shows.”

Martha’s smile slightly faltered. “Yes, I’m the only one he’s ever studied under, and I’m afraid I don’t have the heart to be stricter with him even when he needs it.”

Alfred’s pierced lips slightly quirked to a knowing smirk. “Yes, because that is the gentle hearted woman you have always been.”

His soft gaze hardened. “Martha, if Bruce were to enroll into the GSPA, I can guarantee I would take him on as my pupil and polish all the talent so he can shine like he is truly meant to.”

Martha’s expression turned uneasy.

“Oh Alfred, I really wish that I could, but I don’t think Thomas would allow something like that. Thomas’s brother passed at a young age, so Bruce is the only Wayne child left.”

“I see…” Alfred mused and though his disappointment didn’t show, he slightly frowned. “Well, please do take some more consideration. I truly believe Bruce would have a bright future in the world of music.”

**************************Age Eleven*****************************

“Dad, please!” The boy begged.

“No, Bruce.” 

The boy’s expression wilted at his father’s frank response. He hardly got any words out before he was instantly being denied. 

All those hours doing the research and preparing the perfect lines, but the moment he presented the pamphlets, his father’s entire demeanor became defiant. 

Still, despite the already uphill battle, Bruce was determined to plead his case.

“But the GSPA has a really prestigious business department. I know it’s not as highly rated as the one you went to, but it still ranks top five in the city.”

Thomas crossed his arms over his chest only adding to his obstinate posture. “Bruce I don’t think-”

“I promise I won’t let it interfere with my studies either!” Bruce quickly interrupted. “If my grades slip up even in the slightest, you can pull me out and enroll me into Gotham Junior Business School immediately.”

“Bruce…” Thomas trailed as he looked into his son’s entreating doe eyes. 

Bruce knew his resolve was slipping. He had to keep pushing.

“Music will only be my minor. I promise to prioritize my studies!”

Thomas’s scowl slightly wavered, and he looked to his wife helplessly. “ _Martha_ …”

She shook her head back. “Thomas, you already know whose side I’m taking over this matter.”

Thomas pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course, considering you’re the one who encouraged all of this.”

“Thomas, I didn’t encourage Bruce to play the piano because that’s what I or my family has done for generations. I only encouraged Bruce to do the things that make him happy. Don’t you want your son to be happy?”

Thomas didn’t or rather couldn’t answer back. Instead, he nervously turned his gaze away from Martha’s sharp stare and looked back to his son.

Bruce’s eyes were glossy and larger than natural, and his lower lip looked like it was holding back a tremble.

Thomas let out a heavy huff and groaned. “FINE!”

“DAD!” Bruce exclaimed, his smile lighting up his face and most of the room.

Thomas’s visage completely broke into a loose grimace at the sight of his son’s joy. He really meant to frown but couldn’t seem to will it. Instead, he just managed a brusque grumble. “I expect top grades from you and nothing less.”

“Thank you dad!” Bruce grinned while hugging the man.

“And over the summer you will attend the GBS’s internship program.”

“Yes, yes, dad!” Bruce nodded while squeezing him tighter.

Finally Thomas conceded defeat and hugged his son back before sighing and smiling at Martha with resignation. 

“I can never win against you two.”

“Dear…” Martha lulled as she joined them in their embrace.

***************************************************

“My, my,” an amused voice purred. “And what’s going on here?”

Upon making her way to class, the girl’s attention was caught by a gaggle of students trying to pile into a single doorway.

She slinked her way over to the one person she recognized at the back of the crowd and tittered. “I swear I heard the squeals nearly two halls over.” 

“Oh Selina,” her friend nodded. She didn’t seem nearly as enthusiastic as the horde fighting for dominance over the doorway, but her eyes were still lit with excitement. “You showed up just in time.”

“Just in time for what?”

“To hear the GSPAs latest and greatest pianist!”

Selina raised a dubious brow. “I’m sure he’s not worth all the f-,” before she could finish her sentence, the girls wrestling at the entrance tripped over each other revealing to Selina the object of their scuffle. 

“…uss…” Selina finished before her smile curled and she hummed. “ _Hmm_.”

“Yeah, he’s gorgeous, isn’t he?” her friend agreed as she completely interpreted Selina’s purl.

Selina’s hungry gaze continued to drink in the young player sitting at the piano. She brought a light touch to her own lips, her finger dabbing at the plump skin with taut contemplation. 

Eventually though she came to her senses and scoffed. “Well, I admit he is _fine on the eyes_ , but there’s plenty of candy roaming these halls so what’s new?”

“Yeah, but will that eye candy one day own half this city?” her friend countered.

Selina’s interest peaked again. “Oh?” 

“That kid is Bruce Wayne, future head of Wayne Enterprises.” 

“No kidding?” Selina snickered. “Well, I guess that explains all the trifles I see flocking around him, but really isn’t that just a little bit boring?

To strap yourself onto a trustfund brat and have life handed to you on a silver platter. Really, where is the challenge and fun in that?”

Selina finally turned her eyes away from Bruce and looked at her friend disinterestedly.

“No, a kid like him, his life is dull and predictable. He will graduate from here with a business degree, go to the finest business college, run his family’s money just like his dad, and his dad before him, and so on and so on.”

She shrugged and started to walk away.

“If those empty headed floozies are fine with that kind of tedious life, that’s fine, but for me and myself, I prefer to chase after something shinier.”

“Selena, you never change,” her friend chuckled as she followed behind her.

“Off with you now!” a surly instructor with an accent commanded as he tried to make his way through the throng and started to shoo them away. “Do not you lot have your own classes to attend? Young Master Bruce has a very important performance coming up and does not need you distractions!”

After that the crowd dispersed.

***********************************************************

Selina rubbed the callouses at the tips of her fingers. They were a bit raw now and more noticeable than the cramp in her hands. 

It’d been another long night of practice and she was ready to do nothing more than go straight to bed. That is until she heard the captivating resonance of aural allure transformed over the waves of sound.

The piano strums were quiet and a bit solemn but still so sweet against her ears reverberating shallow tremors from her heart that worked their way down to her toes.

With her eyes completely shut and breath baited, she allowed her auditory senses to take over. Not wanting to miss the experience of even one beat, her feet moved towards the sounds as if she were caught in a trance.

When the final rings filled the hall, Selina listlessly opened her eyes, and gasped. At the center of the stage, under the glow of the lights, there sat a lone pianist. 

Head swaying in a waltz with his hands, eyes closed, breath perfectly timed, he was one with the music. Deftly his fingers kissed the keys and when the music finally ended he sat still at the piano and returned to the world.

“Well, well, well,” Selina lulled as she rubbed at the ache in her chest. “Maybe I was wrong about you, _Trustfund_. You just might be the brightest star on the stage…”

***********************************************************

“Really now Bruce, is that the best you can do?” 

The boy stood up from his bench and pointed an accusing finger at his persecutor.

“You did that on purpose! You just took off after the third run because you know that’s the hardest part for me!”

She sneered back at him and snorted. “That’s quite the accusation. It’s not my fault you can’t keep up. Maybe if you spent a little less time in the library and a bit more time at the keys…”

As the words left her mouth she instantly felt regret. She then looked back towards her partner who now had head hung forlornly at the piano.

Selina blew at her bangs with frustration before setting down her violin and sitting at the bench beside him.

“Come on, Bruce, if you really want to take this seriously, you need to put in more effort. You don’t do anything outside of class requirements, and even though I know for a fact you’re the best pianist at this school, you don’t even compete!”

Bruce slumped down next to her and sighed. “I can’t, Selina. I just can’t…”

“And why not?” Selina snapped back. “Because _daddy_ told you so?”

“Selina,” Bruce warned, but she didn’t back down.

“Bruce, when are you going to learn how to live life for yourself? You’re such a bright star but as long as you continue to hang under daddy’s shadow no one is ever going to see you shine!”

Bruce just grimaced but didn’t reply.

Selina continued to glare at him with scrutiny, but after a few minutes of watching him stare pitifully at his own feet, she eventually resigned her frustration.

“It’s okay,” Selina sighed. Bruce looked back at her expecting to see a smile of assurance. Instead there was a mischievous gleam in her eyes and a feral curl to her lips. “I guess for now I’ll just keep you all to myself.” 

She winked at him wryly. “That is if you can manage to keep up.”

“It’s not like you ever give me a choice,” Bruce groaned.

Selina stood back up and readied her bow. “Of course not, now let’s get to work, _Brucie_.”

******************************************************

“Look at your score. It wasn’t even a contest!” Selina reveled. She then nudged Bruce with her elbow. “See Brucie, I knew you were the best!”

Bruce looked astonished as he studied his score, staring at it as if the numbers were an illusion that might disappear if he dared to blink. 

It was just as she said. The point difference between him and the other contestants wasn’t even close. This was his first competition, and his nerves had been completely shot. Never did he dream he would manage a score like this.

Eventually Bruce recovered and smiled back weakly. “Thanks, Selina.”

The proud smirk faded from her lips and her eyes went soft. “Bruce…”

He felt his heart thump when he heard her tender voice. She’d never called out to him like that before.

“Bruce! Congratulations!” 

Both musicians jumped when they heard the bright voice, Bruce turning away fast and smiling at this mother.

Standing beside her was a man with a flat countenance but a clear expression of approval. 

“Good job, young master Bruce.”

“Thank you,” Bruce smiled as he acknowledged both his mother and Alfred.

“Oh Selina, so good to see you,” Martha greeted when she noticed the girl standing behind him.

“Hello Mrs. Wayne,” Selina answered back before nodding at Alfred. “Maestro.”

Alfred shook his head in silent reply.

“Well, I have to warm up now,” Selina announced. “And considering Bruce’s score, I might have to put in a little bit more effort,” she gestured with her fingers. “Just a little more though.”

“Okay Selina, dear,” Martha chuckled. “We’ll be sure to listen in on your performance.”

After waving the girl off, everyone’s attention went back to Bruce.

“So, how was it?” Bruce asked while holding up his trembling fingers. “I was so nervous. I think my hands are still shaking.”

“For your first competition, you did remarkably well,” Martha lauded.

“I had to,” Bruce chuckled back. “Maestro wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The corner of Alfred’s mouth lifted. “Of course not, though I will say, young Master Bruce, you were the one who sat at that piano and played, not I. I am just a tool that helps polish your latent talent and skill.”

“Yeah but if not for you, I never would’ve found the confidence and you’ve taught me so much.”

Alfred brought up a silencing hand.

“No need to thank me. I just merely did my job,” his mouth finally formed a droll smirk. “And I do have my own reputation to uphold. I just happen to luck out and have a student who can help me look even better.”

“Haha,” Bruce laughed back. He must’ve done a good job if Alfred was making jokes. “Thank you…”

Alfred’s face fell back to indifference. “In any case, enjoy the win for now. Tomorrow is another day, and this was just the first of many qualifiers,” he gave the boy a shrewd eye. “From now on, we will practice twice as hard because the future competitions you will be facing will be even tougher.”

“Okay, Maestro!” Bruce nodded excitedly. 

After that, Alfred said his goodbyes and left to attend to his other students.

“So you think I stand a chance at the bigger competitions?” Bruce asked as he stood outside the theater with his mother and waited for their car.

“Alfred seems to think so.”

Bruce’s anxious expression still didn’t fade.

“Don’t worry if you can or not, Bruce,” Martha assured while squeezing his shoulder. “Just go out on that stage and have fun and remember no matter what the results, I will always be your number one fan.”

***********************Age 16 *********************

“You were accepted into the Junior London Orchestra this summer!” Selina erupted.

“Yes…” Bruce answered with a faint blush. He never expected her to be this excited.

“Even though I didn’t submit the request, they heard I won the junior international Chopin competition, and apparently winning that gets you an automatic invitation.”

He lowered his gaze and started to fiddle with his thumbs. “They asked me to go in for a placement audition next month.”

“Bruce that’s amazing!” Selina praised. Of course she wasn’t surprised that someone at his level would accomplish such a feat, but at the same time it was still something that impressed even her. Also, she was happy to see Bruce finally making his mark.

Admittedly, when she first attached herself to him, she just wanted the best accompanist the school had to offer in order to further her own career, but now after all these years of partnering, Bruce had become her best friend.

Bruce went deathly silent and Selina saw the anxiety in his eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

“Selina, I can’t go.”

Selina’s mouth twisted into a disapproving frown. “Why, because every summer you’re being sent off to some business internship or summer training program?”

Bruce lowered his head.

“Bruce this is a once in a life time opportunity!” 

He ran his fingers restlessly through his hair. “I know, but I…”

Selina abated her anger, and started to speak more sincerely.

“Bruce, I’ve known you for the last five years now, and I know for a fact you’re not meant to be stuck in some stuffy office running a business you don’t care about.”

“I care!” Bruce shouted.

“No, you don’t,” Selina snapped. “The only thing you care about is not letting your parents down, but when is it going to be about you and what you want? “

Bruce turned his face away from her penetrating gaze, and Selina felt her frustration return.

“Bruce, I’m not going to tell you how to run your life, but I will tell you this. If you don’t learn how to take a stand for yourself, the rest of your life is always going to be laid out for you until the day you have your own kid, and he takes over for you!”

Bruce didn’t answer and continued to look at the table. Selina let out an angry breath and stood to her feet.

“Fine!” she huffed while storming out the practice room. “If that’s how you want to waste your life, go for it, but I’m not going to sit by any longer and watch your life be lived for you!”

*************************************************************** 

“I will not have this!” Thomas growled.

“Dad!”

Thomas waved a dismissive hand that instantly cut him off.

“Bruce we had a deal. If I let you attend the GSPA, you would keep your grades up and summers would be spent attending the GBS internship program. You know how many strings I had to pull just to get you into that program. Especially considering you don’t even attend the school?”

For a second, Bruce just looked at his father helplessly before he narrowed his eyes and countered.

“Yes, I get it, and that’s what I’ve done for the last five years, but just this one year, just this once, please let me do this.”

“Bruce-”

“Dad, I got the position as lead pianist!” Bruce tried to explain. “No one my age has ever-”

“Bruce!” Thomas thundered furiously while slamming fist to the table.

Bruce closed his mouth and went silent. It wasn’t often his father got this upset with him.

Thomas saw his son’s deflated mortification and felt regret. Not many times had he made his son look this disappointed.

Realizing he’d lost his cool, the man took in a slow breath and tried to recollect.

“And what good will being lead pianist do for your future?” He asked quietly.

Bruce could tell his father was straining to keep his voice steady.

“Bruce don’t you understand, this company is our family’s legacy.”

Bruce’s vision started to get blurry. “I know, but I…”

He willed back the tears, and started to remember Selina’s words. 

This was it. If he didn’t say something now, he’d never be able to.

“I don’t want to run it!” Bruce shouted as he whipped his head back up and glared at his father defiantly.

“Bruce…” Martha gasped. Up until this point, she’d just silently watched their argument, waiting for the right moment to intervene.

“Being the head of Wayne Enterprise has never been my dream!” Bruce continued to yell.

Thomas’s anger started to return, but he still managed to keep his voice level.

“Dreams are one thing Bruce, but practicality is another. Being a musician just isn’t an idealistic profession for someone like you.”

“Why not?!” Bruce asked. “Mom used to be. Are you saying what she did wasn’t practical.”

“That’s different,” Thomas clenched.

“How so?”

“It’s a competitive field. Not even a fraction of the people in the music industry come close to being successful.”

Bruce’s bold expression twisted into a pleading gaze.

“But I’m good dad, _really_ good.”

“So you would rather gamble your family’s legacy away for the tiny _possibility_ of being some kind of musical sensation? Is that really more important to you than this family?!”

Bruce completely crumbled at his words. “No…I…that’s not…” 

He was now at a loss. Was what his father saying really true? Was he just being blinded by his own selfishness? Was the only resolution the abandonment of his family? Was there really only those two choices?

“I…” he was trembling now with uncertainty but the moment his answer came to him, he found his resolve and stopped shaking.

Bruce looked straight into his father’s eyes answered lowly. “Even if you don’t want to understand me, it doesn’t change how I feel.”

After that the boy ran out of the room before his father could think of anything else to say.

Thomas let out an angry growl, his frustration too great for him to speak properly. He then sat at the table in front of him and glared angrily at Bruce’s submission paperwork.

For a moment, Martha was without words. She’d never seen her husband and son at such odds. She had to try and make this right.

“Thomas, don’t you think you’re being too hard?”

“I have to, Martha. Apparently being soft all these years has not given him any sense.”

She sat next to him and clasped his hand. “Please, let’s just discuss this a little more calmly.”

He flicked his wrist away and snorted. “Of course you would take his side. You were the one who always encouraged this!”

He turned an accusing eye on her. 

“Your family has plenty of musicians to take over the Kane legacy but Bruce is the only…he’s my only son, and I don’t want him to throw away his future on daydreams.”

“Thomas, please,” Martha begged. “I know taking on this kind of a career is risky, but don’t you want your son to be happy?”

I do!” Thomas honestly declared. “And that’s why I don’t want him to live a life where he has to struggle. For as long as I’ve known you, I’ve seen too many people in your profession barely scrape their way through life only to meet a miserable unsuccessful end. Do you want Bruce to end up like your brother?”

Martha lowered her gaze in shameful remembrance.

“I won’t have my son go through any of that!” Thomas gritted. “If he just takes over Wayne Enterprises, he’ll never have to struggle in life.”

“Yes,” Martha cooed as she once again took his hand and tried to ease him. “But then he will always live a life wondering what could have been, never taking a chance on something he truly believed in.”

“Martha…” Thomas sighed tiredly.

“Please Thomas,” Martha entreated. “At least try to consider things from Bruce’s perspective. Then after we’ve all had time to think this out a little better, I’m sure we can find a favorable resolution for everyone.”

“I…” Thomas looked into Martha’s pleading eyes. “I will try…”

************************************************

“Bruce dear….” Martha whispered as she knocked on his bedroom door.

When he didn’t answer, she carefully poked her head inside. “Bruce?”

************************************************************

Selina tossed for the fifth time that night. She was beyond exasperated and couldn’t sleep.

_‘Damn him!’_

No matter how much she wanted to think of something else, she couldn’t get over her disappointment in Bruce. To think he would just throw away his opportunity to please his dad. 

Good thing her father always let her have her way. Then again, her father was much too busy with the family business to pay much mind to the things she did. Such was the nature of being the daughter of the infamous Rex Calabrese, one of the most well-known underground Kingpins in Gotham. Of course, to the Gothamites, he was just another wealthy businessman, but in reality, everyone knew the whisperings of her family’s shady reputation. 

Especially considering the fact she still took her mother’s name and was just the illegitimate kid who was dropped off at his doorstep one night after she passed away.

 _“Dollface, a pretty thing like you is meant light up the stage,”_ is what he would always say to encourage her, and then whenever she needed anything, he’d throw money her way. It was fine though, she didn’t need things like love and affection from him, and it was never like her to really care or depend on any men.

So then why, why was she so upset over Bruce? Never in her life had she ever let a guy get to her so much.

A tap at her window shook her from her musings.

And there he was, as if the devil had summoned him up from her thoughts, her best friend, Bruce Wayne. The awkward little rich kid who despite being a little withdrawn and quiet was by far the most passionate pianist she’d ever met.

“Bruce, what are you doing here?” Selina asked as she opened her window and waved him inside. How he managed to slip past her father’s security was a surprise to her, then again, there was that one night she snuck him into her room, so maybe he just remembered that path. Still, it was remarkable he recalled such an elaborate sequence after only one demonstration.

She looked him up down, and instantly knew something wasn’t right. For one thing, he was dressed casually in a hoodie and jeans, and secondly, he had a rather sizable rucksack strapped to his back. 

“You were right, Selina,” Bruce breathed out excitedly. “I’m tired of having my life lived for me. My father is never going to try to understand!”

“So what are you planning to do?” She asked even though she already knew the answer.

Bruce smiled at her with the most confident look she’d ever seen from him, and she knew he’d finally made the choice she’d always hoped for.

“I’m going to London with or without my father’s approval.”

To be continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long Chapter but it’s done! 
> 
> So I really took some liberties with young Bruce’s personality. I honestly think had his parents not died he would’ve been a much more quiet and gentle character (actually he is still pretty quiet), and I just imagine him as this diligent son. I may have taken a little inspiration for his personality from the young Bruce portrayed in the Gotham series, the same goes for Selina. I actually find their friendship in that series adorable.
> 
> I don’t think Bruce is a push over either, though, but when it comes to his parents, I think he would try really hard to make them happy. He doesn’t seem like the bratty spoiled rich kid type. His parents were philanthropist and pretty humble so I imagine they raised Bruce the same. 
> 
> I feel bad that Thomas had to take an antagonistic role, but I think from a parent’s POV he isn’t. Like many parents, he thinks he knows what is best for his child and wants to lay out a good life for him and believes if Bruce falls off course, he will suffer.
> 
> Unfortunately there is a thin line between being protective and controlling. Good thing Martha is around to help him draw those lines. They balance each other out :)
> 
> Okay, well I know this chapter seemed like it was getting away from the main story, but I wanted to try something different. Rather than just have Selina explain to Clark his past, I thought a flashback would be more interesting. I wonder, was it?
> 
> In any case, this little detour will be over in the next chapter, but finally I can reveal a big part of Bruce’s trauma, though some of you may have guessed it already.
> 
> Well, I hope this chapter was still interesting enough and everyone enjoyed it. Thanks again for all the support, and I hope you keep reading!
> 
> Chapter is named after the song Bruce was playing when Selina heard him for the first time.  
> Pyotr IIryich Tchaikovsky – “For Seasons -June Barcarolle (G minor)”: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PbHhqXSUzKQ (Version Bruce played)
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KMb_TPrqMZI (Full Version)


	20. Nocturne

“Bruce, I can’t believe you would run away!” The man shouted furiously. “Did you really think you would get away with a stunt like this?” 

The boy didn’t answer and kept his gaze fixated towards the ground. There was an angry defiant crease to his brow and the edges of his mouth, but his eyes were dim and glossed over with remorse.

“Thomas, please,” Martha attempted to calm while reaching for her husband’s hand. “You shouldn’t talk right now when you’re so upset.”

“Of course I’m upset!” Thomas erupted while shirking away her gesture. “My son stole my credit card, ran away, took a plane to the other side of the world, and for what?” 

Martha lowered her own eyes away from his angry glower not exactly sure how to respond to his question. 

“What were you even thinking?!” Thomas shouted as he threw his glare back to his son.

Bruce flinched a little and started to open his mouth but quickly retracted the thought.

Thomas snorted at his unresponsiveness and answered for him. “That’s just it! You weren’t at all!

Do you have any idea how worried we were about you? Your mother wouldn’t even rest until we found you!”

“I’m sorry…” Bruce quietly apologized while squeezing his eyes closed. The earlier gloss was starting to become heavy and threatening to spill out.

“Sorry isn’t good enough, Bruce!” Thomas snapped back. “I knew letting you attend the GSPA was a mistake. When we get back, I’m pulling you from there immediately and sending you straight to a boarding school!”

“What!?” Bruce blurted as his face turned to panic.

“Thomas!” Martha shouted.

“No Martha,” Thomas refuted. “I’m done arguing with both of you.” 

“Thomas, please,” Martha begged as she wrapped her hands around his forearm and started to tug it earnestly. “You don’t-”

Thomas wrenched himself free and turned a cold shoulder to her. He then grabbed Bruce’s knapsack off the ground and started to storm down the terminal.

“Thomas wait!”

“My decision has been made!” He bit back.

“Thomas you…” Martha’s words tapered and her body started to stagger.

“Mom?” Bruce asked when he saw her pale color and hazy sapphires.

Then as if in slow motion, Bruce watched in horror as the woman suddenly collapsed.

“MOM!”

**********************************************************

“It’s a type of heart condition.”

Selina wasn’t sure what to say when she heard his words. Especially considering how calm and evenly he delivered them. As if she just asked for the time, his response was prim and emotionless.

Then again, with the way he was sitting with his head slightly bowed and fidgeting with his hands in his lap, she knew something wasn’t right.

“Well, can they do anything about it?” 

“I’m not…” Bruce’s voice wavered before he clenched his jaw and steadied his words. “They’re not sure.”

“They have the best specialist from all over the world taking care of your mom. I’m sure they’ll figure it out.” Selina attempted to reassure while debating on moving towards some form of physical comfort. It wasn’t like her but seeing Bruce look so lost was making her feel compelled for the first time.

Bruce dropped his face completely and wrung his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know Selina…but I just can’t help but think this is somehow my fault.”

“What?!” Selina exclaimed incredulously. “How on Earth is this your fault?”

Bruce shook his head with uncertainty. “I don’t know, but her episode was aggravated by all the stress, and I…”

Bruce couldn’t complete his sentence.

“No, don’t you blame yourself for this!” Selina urged while trying to keep her own anxiousness at bay. “If anything, now they’ve discovered the problem sooner and maybe they’ve caught it in time to do something about it.”

“My dad said he was going to send me to a boarding school in Frankfurt.” Bruce replied dispassionately as if he hadn’t heard her words.

“What!”

“Because of her condition, my mom convinced him to change his mind. Still…” Bruce smiled weakly and pain reflected in his eyes. “This will be my last semester attending the GSPA. After that, I’ll start going to Gotham’s Junior Business School.”

Selina’s face twisted, and she scowled. “Oh, so now you’re just going to duck your head and play nice for daddy?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m going to do,” Bruce sighed while standing to his feet.

“I’m sorry Selina. I know you had high hopes for my music career, and maybe for a moment I did too, but I just have to think realistically now.

I always knew at the end of everything, I’d end up taking over Wayne Enterprises, so there’s no point in me fighting it anymore.”

He gave her a tender look that abruptly stifled all her protests. 

“In any case,” he smiled before patting her shoulder and walking away. “Thank you for always being such a good friend...”

**********************************************

Her smile was soft and her features serene and completely at ease. Quietly she sat with her eyes closed and a content curl about her lips. The sweet sounds filling the room were surrounding her and enveloping her body in a caress of harmonic comfort and melodic bliss.

When the final note played, she felt her breath return and she sighed out contently. “That was beautiful, Bruce.” 

Bruce smiled back at her gently. “I hope that you liked it.”

“Of course I did,” Martha insisted as she patted at the seat beside her. Bruce immediately read her gesture and sat next to her.

“I really mean it when I say that I’m your biggest fan,” Martha chuckled as she hugged her son to her body. “You always play with so much heart, it truly warms my soul.”

“I’m glad then,” Bruce smiled as he snuggled a little deeper into her embrace. He always felt so warm and protected when she held him.

She petted his head a little before tousling his hair and lifting his chin up so he could meet her eyes.

“Bruce, I’m not the only one who feels this way when you play. You bring so much joy to the hearts of everyone you perform for.”

Bruce’s smile faded when he saw the concern and worry in her eyes.

“Bruce, dear, I heard that you’re going to start attending the GJBS next semester?”

“Yes,” he answered dolefully. 

“Bruce, is this really what you want?”

“I…” he had to turn his face away from her penetrative eyes. “What I want is for you to get better,” he squeezed her hand. “That’s all.”

Martha tilted her head so it was aligned with Bruce’s gaze. “And what I want is for you to be happy.”

Bruce’s breath started to stagger and become anxious. “But I…I don’t want to disappoint dad either, but at the same time, I love playing the piano.” He buried his face into her side. “I don’t know…I just don’t know what makes me happy anymore.”

Martha cooed softly and rubbed his back. “You’re father just wants you to have a good life, but right now none of us know what will make you happy. That’s why it’s something you have to decide for yourself, and when you do,” she slightly pulled away from him and smiled reassuringly. “You have to show him. I know if you do, he’ll finally understand.” 

“I…” Something about the way she looked at him seemed to melt away all his worries. "Okay, mom.”

“My dear sweet, Bruce,” Martha lulled as she embraced him tightly again. “I know someone as kind as you will find his happiness.”

“Yes,” Bruce nodded a little. “I think…” he looked at her with renewed hope. “I know what it is now.”

“Oh?” Martha quirked with curiosity.

He sat back at the piano bench and smiled. “Playing for my number one fan.”

*****************************************************

“It will be my final performance,” Bruce spoke out from the doorway. 

The other man had his back to the boy and was sitting at his desk. When he heard his son he didn’t turn around, but stopped what he was doing and waited for Bruce to finish telling him about his concert.

The hands at Bruce’s sides twitched with nervous anticipation.

“I know usually you’re too busy to attend, but do you think maybe, if work is not in the way…could you please come and hear me play?”

Bruce waited with baited breath, nails digging into the palms of his fisted hands.

After what felt like an eternity of silence, Thomas replied.

“Okay, Bruce.”

****************************************************

“I’m sorry I won’t be able to make your performance tonight,” Martha apologized with a weary look of regret. 

Bruce sat closely next to her and shook his head dismissively. “It’s okay. I’m not going to go now anyways.”

“What?!” Martha exclaimed.

“I can’t play tonight knowing you’re in the hospital!”

“No Bruce,” Martha insisted as she squeezed his hand. “You have to go! This will be your last performance.”

There was hardly any strength in her grip.

“But I-” Bruce started to object.

“Bruce, please,” Martha begged. Then her eyes softened and she smiled at him with the same look of assurance she always used to convince him. “There’s not much you can do for me here. I’m just going to be sitting in this clammy hospital room resting up. There’s no point in you cancelling your performance just so you can sit here with me.”

Bruce still seemed apprehensive.

“It will only break my heart more if I know you aren’t on that stage tonight touching everyone’s hearts like you always do.”

“I…” with those words, Bruce couldn’t refuse.

“Okay,” he nodded. “I’ll go,” he gave her half a smile that was genuine but still hesitant. “I know it’s not the same, but I’ll be sure to ask Maestro to record my performance for you to listen to later.”

Martha’s tired eyes brightened up two shades. “Then I’ll have something to look forward to when you get back.”

Bruce felt his full smile return when he saw her excitement.

After Bruce left, Thomas, who’d been standing quietly at the back of the room, finally spoke up.

“I will drop Bruce off and come straight back-”

Martha shook her head. “No dear, you have to go and listen to our son play.”

“But I can’t just leave-”

“Please.”

She looked at her husband with sincere pleading. “I know you’ve never been thrilled about Bruce playing the piano, but please, just this once, won’t you support our son in my place?”

Thomas let out a long sigh of resignation. “Okay, Martha. If that’s what you wish…”

***************************************************

After his performance, Bruce ran off the stage. 

The sounds of ovation continued to pour from the audience for well past what was typical, many standing in their seats still celebrating his performance.

When Selina saw Bruce, he was trembling with a wide look on his face as if he was about to burst into tears.

She instantly felt worried not certain why Bruce would look so anxious after the best performance she’d ever heard him play.

“Bruce?” She questioned as she tapped his shoulder. 

“Selina, he was crying!” Bruce exclaimed ecstatically.

“What?”

“My father,” Bruce clarified as he started to wipe at the fluid brimming from his eyes.

Selina let out a sigh of relief. There wasn’t anything to worry about. Bruce wasn’t upset, he was just so thrilled he couldn’t contain his feelings, and they were finally spilling over.

“I think maybe I finally got through to him,” Bruce breathed out happily, and for the first time since he found out about his mother’s illness, Bruce smiled full heartedly.

“Originally, I wanted to dedicate this performance to my mother, but tonight when I saw him sitting there in her seat, the only thing I could think about was showing him what was truly in my heart, and I think I was finally able to.”

Selina couldn’t help but return his expression. “With a performance like that, I know you did,” she assured. Outside of performing, Bruce usually seemed so repressed, but today was the most genuine she’d ever seen him. 

“BRUCE!” a man shouted from across the backstage.

Bruce instantly recognized the voice.

“Maestro?”

Alfred’s eyes were wide and frantic, and he was nearly out of breath.

“You have to leave right now!”

Something in the pit of Bruce’s stomach twisted with premonition. 

“What? Why?”

Alfred’s expression crumpled from uneasiness to pain. “It’s your mother, Bruce.”

*******************************************************

“She passed on our way to the hospital…”

Selina brought a hand to her mouth and gasped.

After her performance ended, she immediately rushed to the hospital. When she finally arrived, Bruce was sitting alone in a random dark hallway with an empty smile staring at nothing. When she finally approached him, those were the first words to come out his mouth, so cold and detached, completely devoid of any feeling or emotion.

“My dad, he couldn’t even look at me afterwards,” Bruce quietly told her. “The only thing he said to me afterwards was, _so was it worth it, Bruce_?”

The corner of Bruce’s mouth twitched betraying the first signs of his breakdown.

“I knew I shouldn’t have played tonight,” his voice started to shake. “Why did I…” he sagged his head completely into his lap and cried. “Why did I choose playing the piano over my mother?”

“Bruce you didn’t…” Selina stopped. Now wasn’t the time for her to argue with him. Instead she just took him in her arms and whispered. “Bruce…I’m sorry…”

Bruce buried his face into her chest and continued to sob.

“What’s the point of performing if I can’t play for my number one fan?”

“Bruce…”

********************************************************

“Clark, are you alright?” Selina asked. There was a new stream of tears flooding his face.

Clark shook his head. “No.”

“Heh,” Selina chuckled as she closed her own eyes tightly in act of repression. Once she recollected, she sighed. “I guess even after all these years. Talking about it still…”

She shied away her own dismal expression and continued to speak.

“After that, I didn’t see or hear from Bruce for an entire year. I assumed he went to the GJBS, just like his dad wanted, but then one day I heard news about Bruce entering several high profile piano contests.

Competition after competition, he won them all until he was the only thing anyone in this industry could talk about.

Eventually I managed to make it to one of them, but the Bruce I saw on that stage, the one I heard…”

Selina’s gazed narrowed and started to turn hazy.

“He was like an entirely different person. Everything about his style had gone cold, calculative, and mechanical. His competition pieces were completely flawless, and played to a T. That’s why he always crushed anyone who competed against him because to a judge’s board, playing from the heart doesn’t win titles. It’s all about points and marks and whether or not you did or didn’t make any mistakes.”

Selina let out a deflated sigh as she vividly started to remember the past.

“I eventually confronted Bruce after sitting in on a few of his performances.

He told me was that he was going to prove to his father that he could become a huge success and that playing the piano was worthwhile.”

Selina’s face furrowed.

“Even before graduating college, people started calling Bruce maestro. Everyone was always amazed by his flawless ability and many just went to his performances in hopes he would finally slip up.” She gritted her teeth. “Like it was some kind of car race, they were just waiting to see a wreck, but that wouldn’t come until much later...”

She shrugged and smiled grimly.

“I admit, to those who never heard him play before, he was what one would call a musical genius, but for those of us who knew the real Bruce, how he is now pales in comparison to that awkward kid I knew so long ago who loved playing the piano for his mother….”

Her gaze returned to Clark, and she studied his eyes.

“I never talked to Bruce again. He completely shut everyone out. It wasn’t until we both started to play for the New York Philharmonic that I ran into him again. Imagine my surprise though when he had a scruffy little pianist attached to his heels.”

“Dick.”

“Yes,” Selina nodded.

“It was also at that time Bruce and I hooked up.”

“Oh…” Clark mumbled while averting his eyes. Just as he suspected, at one point, Bruce and Selina’s relationship went beyond friendship.

Selina’s expression softened.

“I really couldn’t help but look at him as the same Bruce I knew growing up, and you know, I really felt like part of him was slowly returning. Especially with the way he seemed so enthusiastic about training Dick.

I think hearing someone as soulful as Dick really started to remind Bruce how the piano should be played. Also, I think in his own way, Bruce was trying to live out that love for the music through him.”

She frowned.

“Still, no matter what. He never returned to playing like before. I think instead he just hoped that maybe someone like Dick could fill his place in the musical world, and even though the old Bruce couldn’t return, I thought at least this much was enough. That maybe Bruce could finally be happy again, but then….”

************************************************

The audience applause could be heard in the distance, the results always the same as before. Bruce knew how to manipulate his audience. It was actually a pretty simple thing to do. Just understand the piece and play it exactly as the composer intended, there was no need to put any of himself into it. Just let them hear what they want to hear and nothing more. No point in going any further than this, and yet for some reason, the sounds of their praise did nothing for him. It was just as empty as the song he performed.

“Bruce?” Selina called out. For the last several moments, he’d just been standing there wordlessly with a lost look on his face.

Bruce snapped out of his daze and stared at her.

“It’s not enough, Selina.”

She knew something had been troubling him. It all started with the phone call he got earlier that day. He never said who it was from, but afterwards he was even more elusive, which was saying a lot for someone as detached as him.

“No matter what I do, it will never be enough,” Bruce finally explained. “I…he will never forgive me for what happened all those years ago, and I can’t forgive myself either.”

Realization set in for her. No doubt Bruce was talking about his father.

“I wanted to keep playing the piano for her. My mom told me to show my dad what was in my heart, but…” Bruce’s eyes went cold and his voice even chillier. “There’s nothing there anymore…”

He slammed a fist to the wall. 

“And what I’m doing here now. Not taking his place at Wayne Enterprises. Trying to stubbornly prove myself to him…it’s all pointless.”

He rested his head near the place that he struck and sighed.

“My father called me today for the first time in three years…

I know I told you this before, but I was betrothed to the daughter of a family friend, and she’s finally of age. My dad said marrying her is the least I can do after turning my back on our family.”

He finally looked back at Selina. She felt her heart crumble at his tortured expression. His eyes reflecting his affection for her but at the same time the pain and responsibility he felt for his dad.

“I don’t love her, I don’t feel anything for her like I do for you, but at the same time, I don’t want to lose my father like my mother. This may be my last chance…”

He stifled back a sob. “Selina, what should I do?”

***********************************************

“I hated seeing Bruce so broken up,” Selina sighed as she looked at Clark with clear shame. “So I did what I always do best. I ran away.”

“You broke up with him?”

“Yeah,” Selina grimaced. “But I told myself it was because I didn’t want to be the reason Bruce couldn’t make the choices he needed to make, and at the same time, it just hurt too much seeing him the way that he was.”

“I,” Selina faltered but caught herself again. “Even to this day, I still feel so guilty about what I did. I should’ve stayed by his side, but when I was with him, I always kept wondering, if I hadn’t pushed him so hard when we were younger and put all those ideas in his head, would his life be better now?”

“Selina, you just wanted Bruce to be happy and live for himself!” Clark assured.

“Yeah…” Selina chuckled numbly.

“In any case, I heard later he ended up marrying that Al Ghul woman. I guess Bruce was still trying to make daddy happy.

Also, the Al Ghuls are well renowned in the music world, so maybe it was Bruce’s last ditch attempt to prove to his dad he could make it. I admit, Bruce and Talia were definitely a power couple when it came to skill. Some of the music they produced together…” Selina had a sour look on her face. “I didn’t know Bruce could play like that with any _other_ violinist…”

She shrugged and looked mildly satisfied. “But their marriage only lasted a few years.

Shortly after they broke up, I heard his father passed away…” her voice got substantially lower. “I don’t think he and Bruce ever mended their relationship, and that’s when everything went downhill, fast.

Bruce didn’t take over Wayne Enterprises after he passed. Instead, he just quit everything, dropped all his concerts, abandoned Dick, and eventually fell into a deep depression.”

Selina nodded her head and Clark saw the disappointment in her eyes. 

“It was all over the news too. He turned into this wild playboy billionaire who just seemed content with squandering away his family’s fortune. Fast cars, lavish parties, alcohol, drugs…partner after partner, men and women alike…

Though when he found out about his son, he finally slowed down, but I guess Bruce still wasn’t emotionally right, and he ended up getting into a huge argument with Ras that led to him being banished from seeing his son.”

Selina’s voice suddenly raised, and she looked at Clark insistently.

“But I believe Bruce really cares about his son. It was the first thing I seen him care about in a long time. He even moved to Arabia to be closer to him. Unfortunately, when he tried to fight for custody, Ras used Bruce’s reckless reputation against him so he lost even visitation rights.

After that happened, Bruce was practically _suicidal_! Luckily Maestro Pennyworth stepped in before something...” Selina choked. “Before he could do something terrible to himself… _again_.”

Clark didn’t need a further explanation, but was horrified to hear Selina’s words. To think Bruce had been at such a low, then again, it was a feeling he understood all too well, and if anyone took Jon away from him, he probably would’ve done the same.

“I don’t know what Maestro said to him, but he must’ve gotten through because Bruce ended up taking a position at the GSPA, and after Alfred passed, he succeeded him as lead piano instructor.”

Selina’s smile returned and Clark knew they’d gotten over the darkest part of her tale, or so he thought. 

“I think Bruce mainly wanted to clean up his life for his son. He wasn’t proud of what he’d become, so he wanted to be something better for him. Maybe that’s how Alfred convinced him.” She shrugged. “I don’t know, but a few years later, I met Bruce again, and I truly believe teaching started to mend his heart, just like it did back when he used to instruct Dick.

He left his wild lifestyle behind, and when I saw him with his students, he was smiling and seemed happy again, as if he was living out his love for the piano through them.”

Selina’s smile was now the purest Clark had ever seen it as she continued to recall those memories. It made him happy to know how much teaching saved his life, but then Selina’s expression became troubled again.

“I really thought after that, Bruce’s life would be better, but then something happened to his star pupil.”

“Jason?”

“Yeah,” Selina frowned. “I don’t know the full details. You would more than likely have to speak with Dick because at that time, Bruce and Dick were much closer, and I wasn’t even in the country. The only thing I do know was what I heard on the news.” 

The same bit of fear Clark’s felt when Dick mentioned Jason started to grip his heart. 

“What did you hear?”

“One of Jason’s hands…it was mutilated in an act of violence against him.”

“What!” Clark shouted.

Selina nodded with pained remorse. It was definitely the worst nightmare of any musician, and she hated to even consider the thought of it happening to anyone. 

“For whatever reason, Bruce says what happened to Jason is his fault.”

Clark continued to stare at her with wild disbelief, and she promptly changed the subject.

“I didn’t see Bruce again until he asked me to come teach at the GSPA for a few years. He said it was the only way he could be reunited with his son.” 

She laughed and fiddled with the end of her straw in idle remembrance.

“I was so surprised he’d ask such a thing. He must’ve been really desperate considering his feelings towards me now, but I...there’s no way I could say no. 

Also, I already trained several other violinists so my reputation as an instructor is pretty well-known.”

She flicked the top of her cup and redirected her attention back to Clark who’d mildly recovered.

“In any case, to repay Bruce for everything I did to him, I don’t mind teaching here for a little while. Also,” she smiled to herself. “Now I can see why being at the GSPA has been so rewarding for him. Still…”

Her nose wrinkled away her earlier content. “Bur when I met Bruce again, he was even colder than before, and even though I know deep down he wants what’s best for his students, he refuses to let anyone back into his life. That is…” She looked at Clark point blankly, “until he met you.”

“Selina…”

“Clark, I’ve seen Bruce hook up with plenty of people over the years. Just random flings here and there, but I can tell you’re someone different, someone _special_ to him. If I didn’t think so, I never would’ve told you all of this.”

Selina dropped her gaze back to the table and started to fidget with her cup again.

“Clark, I wasn’t a good enough person to help Bruce. I wish I’d been stronger back when he needed it, fought for him like he deserved, but I forfeited my chance a long time ago…”

She exhaled her quiet defeat but then gave Clark a hopeful look.

“Please, Clark. Take care of him.”

Clark looked at her with earnest promise. “Of course, like you said, Bruce deserves to be happy, and that’s what I intend to make happen.”

To Be Continued…

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Notes:  
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Title of this chapter is named after the song Bruce played for his mother. Chopin - Nocturne E Flat Major Op.9 No.2: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tV5U8kVYS88

I don't really have a lot to say because I've been a little out of it, but I at least wanted to post this chapter since I left it on a sort of cliffhanger. In any case, I did end up writing another side story because while working on this one, I started to reflect more on the parts of Bruce's past I didn't go into detail about. Just like the other side story, you don't have to read it unless you want to, but it's kind of Bruce and Damian focused for those of you who care. Fair warning, I wrote this on a whim like I did with the Clark and Jon story, so its not really edited...

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**Reincarnation**

He knew he hit rock bottom when he woke up in a pile of trash with no recollection of how he got there.

His head was hazy and his body ached too much for him to move. The stench of vomit and a foul smelling liquor hung heavy around him, but also there was a sickeningly sweet and cheap perfume making him nauseous

“Lola…” he mumbled as he surprised even himself by remembering the name of his lavish partner. 

Sure he’d been looking for a cheap thrill, but he wasn’t particularly interested in wasting his energy on another affair. Then again, something about Lola really got to him, those deep blue eyes, that dark raven hair, the slim curvature of her body, and her sly plump lips. It really reminded him of someone who once made him feel a little sentimental.

Maybe that’s what got him, _sentimentality_. It wasn’t a useful emotion at all, and he usually tried to keep it at bay, but that was just the nature of such a capricious feeling. It always seemed to rear its ugly head when he least expected it. 

Bruce rummaged in his coat pocket for his phone to see what time it was. If he had to guess, it was close to noon. The merciless sun blaring down him was good indication of that fact. 

He silently cursed. Both his cell and his wallet were missing.

“Lola…” he gritted. Just like the last woman she reminded him of, the jezebel robbed him blind. 

Then again, that was a good metaphor for his life right now. Eyes wide closed, flailing around aimlessly without any purpose. Luckily what was stolen from him this time was something he could easily replace. Thanks to daddy being offed due to some rare illness, there was a good supply of money to finance his hedonistic endeavors. 

That’s the way his mother went too, and maybe if he was lucky, it would be his undoing as well. Of course, there were others ways to end it all, but Bruce preferred to take the easy way out, and if he had to be really honest, taking your own life required a lot of what Bruce didn’t have any supply of, courage.

No, it was probably just simpler to wait for the reaper to sneak up behind him like it did his parents. Maybe due to bad genes or his careless lifestyle, it’s not like Bruce really cared what took him.

Everyone he cared about was either dead or long abandoned. No one would miss him when he was gone, and he wasn’t responsible for anyone’s life but his own.

Bruce felt a renewed sense of energy well up inside of him, and then promptly stood up and retched it all over the dank alley he laid behind. At least it’d been just enough to get him back on his feet.

For a moment, he just massaged his throbbing temples and waited for the world to slow down. Was the world really moving this fast, or maybe he was the one who needed to slow down.

After his father passed, his life started to roll downhill fast. For whatever reason, even after losing contact with each other for so many years, without any explanation, his father left the family fortune in his name. Maybe he thought handing over all the responsibility would make Bruce finally take some. Boy had he been wrong. Bruce didn’t want it, and he intended to show his old man what a mistake he made to think otherwise.

How he besmirched the Wayne name now. Was he doing it out of spite? No, not really, but with the current lifestyle he was living, it couldn’t be helped. Honestly though, Bruce wasn’t upset with his father. The man just had high hopes and aspirations for his son. It’d always been like that. _“Bruce has so much potential,”_ they would all say. During his internships, his business mentors would praise him, when he sat in front of the piano, everyone applauded. Hell, even the great Ra’s Al Ghul seemed to think highly of his potential and how it would only help elevate the already bloated and prestigious Al Ghul name.

Maybe that’s why the man took it so hard when Bruce turned his back and gave up the piano.

“You’re a disgrace to the world of music! I won’t have you sullying my family’s name.”

That’s what he said when he forced Bruce to divorce his daughter. Not that Bruce was all that attached. 

Sure Talia was a great woman, any sensible man would’ve been happy to take her as their wife. She was sharp and cunning, beautiful, and played the violin with unmatched grace and finesse. He never thought he’d meet another violinist that would move him like _that_ woman. Maybe that’s why things never worked out between them. She reminded him too much of _her_. 

No, he couldn’t blame Selina for his own failures. What it really came down to was the fact that Bruce’s heart was never in it. Then again, that was always the problem, lack of _heart_ …

“You have one message.”

“Bruce was surprised. It wasn’t often anyone called the phone at his apartment. Then again, he hadn’t given that number out to many people. His cell was only used for his personal vices, anything Wayne related would be sent to the office or Wayne manor. Then again, he hadn’t stepped foot in that place for months. At least, not since the appraisal he got done so he could finally sell the place.

He didn’t recognize the number when he looked at the caller ID, but he could at least tell it wasn’t local. For a moment, he debated on whether to listen to it or delete it. After taking about half a dozen aspirin and collapsing on his coach, he eventually willed the energy to play it.

“Bruce, this is Talia.”

Bruce instantly became alert and sat up.

“I know it has been nearly a year since we last spoke, and father forbade me from contacting you until now, but even despite everything that has happened, there is something you need to know.

Her voice went quiet for longer than a pause. It wasn’t like Talia to hesitate. Whatever she was about to say was going to be serious. 

Bruce leaned in closer and waited for her to speak.

“Bruce, you have a son.”

Bruce felt his blood go cold and his heart stop at her words.

“I meant to tell you sooner, but I had difficulty contacting you. Finally I was able to find this number. I am not sure if this message will ever reach you, but if it does, and you are willing, come and meet him.”

Talia hung up the phone and the message ended about as abruptly as it entered into Bruce’s life.

Bruce was speechless and just sat silently in a suspended state of shock. Eventually though his mind returned to him and he mouthed out loud.

“I have a son?”

*******************************************************

He really wasn’t sure why he ended going. What was there to even gain from all of this?

It’s not like he and Talia would ever get back together, and honestly being tied down by that Al Ghul family again was the last thing he ever wanted and the last thing Ra’s would allow.

Honestly, the kid would be better off without him. Bruce already screwed up his own life, why let him ruin another?

No, everyone would be much better off if he kept his distance and allowed the Al Ghuls to raise his son _proper_ , far from the influence of his self-destructive father.

In the end, Bruce just came so he could talk with Ra’s and Talia directly about what they would need from him. Sure he had no intention of interfering in the kid’s life, but at the same time, he was still responsible for bringing a child into this world, and if there was any kind of price to pay, Bruce had his checkbook ready.

Of course, Ra’s refused Bruce’s financial backing.

“We have never needed your help before, and we do not need it now. The only reason you are here is because Talia insisted upon it despite my better judgement.”

Really? Talia actually defied her father’s wishes? Never once since he’d known her had she ever acted against him. Their whole ploy at marriage, even when they were divorced she didn’t put up a fuss, so why was this any different?

“Bruce,” Talia quietly greeted, or better put acknowledged.

She was as cold as ever. Then again, no one would’ve ever described their marriage as being warm, just a matter of tradition and convenience. Then again, the one time she did move him was the first time they played together.

_“I only wish to marry you because it will help prosper my family. There was a point when the Kane family once rivaled the Al Ghul name in musical prestige, and my father hopes that this union will only continue to help my family’s bloodline thrive.”_

_“That’s what I figured,” Bruce shrugged._

_“With that being said, I attended your finale performance many years ago when you last played at the GSPA.”_

_“You what?!” Bruce balked._

_Her eyes started to gloss over as though she were reliving that night and for the first time since their marriage something tender took her face. “After hearing your play, I…” She looked at Bruce earnestly. “It eased my apprehension over the kind of man you are.”_

_Bruce frowned as he remembered that fateful night as well. “People change, Talia. I’ve changed.”_

_“Perhaps you have, but at your core still resides that man. Someone who could take a piece of music that was not his own and put such beauty and self-wonder into it. That passion you have buried within you is the legacy you and I will pass onto the world with this union of ours.”_

He didn’t really understand what she meant at that time, but the way she looked at him with such longing and admiration it was the turning point in their relationship.

“I will take you to see him now,” Talia replied as she gestured Bruce to follow her. Ra’s had already disappeared. No doubt he wanted as little to do with Bruce as he could possible afford. 

This wasn’t what Bruce came for. He had no intention to even meet him, but now here he was mindlessly following his ex-wife.

“Father preferred not to tell you about him, but we knew it would only be a matter of time before you found out. In the end, we just concluded with being upfront, though it was agreed you would not be informed until after he was born.”

Bruce looked at her with question but still didn’t speak.

“It’s because father wanted him to take on the Al Ghul name without out any opposition.”

“Figures,” Bruce grunted.

“His name is Damian.”

“Interesting,” Bruce mumbled, though admittedly he liked it.

They entered a rather large room that was decorated much like all the others. Antique furniture and old paintings on the walls, the only thing that made this space different was the large cradle by the bed and nursing chair beside it.

“Well then, Bruce, here is your son.”

She waited expectantly for Bruce to come closer.

Fear, panic, anxiety, Bruce was swirl of negative emotions. 

This isn’t what he came here for. Why was he even here? What was he even doing?

Eventually Bruce willed his courage, holding his breath in hopes that it would help to steady his pulse, and then he saw him, and his world completely changed.

“Despite father’s wishes, I wanted you to meet, because, every time I see his face, I am reminded of the father he looks just like.”

How many years had it been now since Bruce felt the beating of his own heart? On the day his mother passed, something inside him stopped, but now on this day, laying eyes on this beautiful and pure soul for the first time, Bruce felt something inside him move.

“Do you wish to hold him?”

Bruce was still speechless, but managed to nod his head.

Talia directed Bruce to sit before she gently lifted Damian out of his crib and placed him into Bruce’s arms.

Bruce let out an unconscious sound of elation as he cradled the tiny infant. The boy weighed practically nothing. It was as though Bruce was just holding onto a dream, an impossible and wonderful dream. 

It had to be the only explanation. There’s no way this cold and pitiful world could ever produce something so breathtaking and precious.

Damian stirred when he felt his father’s clumsy embrace. He then opened his eyes, and Bruce was gasping out again. Two large emerald blue eyes blinked up at the unfamiliar man. Bruce’s heart skipped when the two of them met gazes. 

This was their first meeting. Truly this thing he was holding was alive and breathing, staring at him with question and innocent wonder. 

The boy didn’t smile but neither did he cry. Instead he just blinked at Bruce curiously before bringing a hand to touch his face. Bruce titled closer and allowed the boy free reign. His tiny fingers barely griped Bruce’s nose before they made their way to his mouth, and that’s when Bruce realized there was a large smile covering the entirety of his face.

Damian saw it too, and was finally convinced that the man could be trusted and became excited.

“I knew this would go well,” Talia sighed. “Well then, I will give you some privacy.”

Bruce didn’t even notice her leaving. He was too enamored with the gorgeous creature in his arms.

He held out a finger and Damian immediately squeezed it. Bruce put up a little fight, but Damian refused to let go. The boy had strong hands with long fingers, perfect for maybe playing the piano one day...

Bruce laughed proudly and Damian returned the sentiment with a gurgled giggle. When Bruce heard the sound, he could no longer bear the weight of his feelings and broke into tears. 

Years of repression, a heart frozen in time, how long had he waited to feel again?

To think something he helped create, a part of himself wouldn’t be born from complete emptiness and despair.

Then Bruce remembered Talia’s words, and everything became clear.

_“That passion you have buried within you is the legacy you and I will pass onto the world…”_

So this is where it was. Everything Bruce thought he’d buried never to be seen again, the soul he abandoned long ago had been reborn in the form of this tiny innocent new life.

Now Bruce was weeping uncontrollably, and Damian was alarmed. His face started to crinkle and Bruce felt him tremble and shake.

“Ah, please, Damian,” Bruce lulled as he hugged the boy a little closer. “Please don’t cry.”

He finally pulled the boy away and whispered with the same honest and reassuring smile his mother used to give him. “As long as I’m with you, I promise you’ll never have to cry.”

And with that declaration, Bruce knew his purposeless life was over. Now he’d found his anchor and his reason to live.

Damian stopped fussing, not doubt mesmerized by Bruce’s deep booming voice. Bruce was relieved and smiled. When Damian saw it, he mimicked the man again and smiled back. Bruce forced back the tears of joy, afraid he might alarm the boy again and expressed the only other uncontainable emotion he could feel.

Damian giggled when he heard his father’s pure and honest laugh. 

On the day his mother passed, something inside Bruce died. On the day he met his son, Bruce was reborn.

End.

On another side note, because i didn't get to mention it in this side story like i originally planned (because i liked where it ended), Bruce punched Ra's because he got mad when he found out Ra's forced their divorce because he knew Talia was pregnant. He just wanted their kid to inherit the Al Ghul name if it ended up being a boy (which did). If Talia had a girl, he probably would have of pawned her off onto Bruce... Just imagine how different a story it would've been had Damian been a girl instead...

In any case, thanks for reading.


	21. Mariage D'amoure

“I’m kind of nervous about tomorrow’s competition,” Jon groaned while slumped over the piano.

The other’s boy’s mouth tightened, and he scoffed. “Why would you be? The only thing you have to do is accompany me which you’ve proven you can do time and time again during practice.”

Jon’s face went uneasy. “Yeah, but it will be our first time playing together in front of an audience.”

Damian rolled his eyes. “You worry about the most unnecessary things.”

He shrugged and pointed his bow only a few inches from Jon’s nose causing the boy to straighten up. “If I did not think you could cut it, I would have dropped you a long time ago. So when I say you have nothing to worry about, just take me at my word.”

Jon lifted his eyes from the stick at his face and met Damian’s gaze. Even though his brow was furrowed with irritation, and he was frowning, something about his clear azures conveyed all the honest sincerity behind his words. 

Jon smiled back. “Thanks, Damian.”

“For what?” Damian grunted as his expression became flustered.

“For trying to make me feel better.”

Damian quickly turned his back to the boy. “I wasn’t _trying_ to do anything. I was just telling you the facts.”

“Okay,” Jon laughed. Damian hadn’t moved fast enough to hide his faint blush.

“Ttt,” Damian ticked. He really didn’t appreciate Jon’s cheeky grin.

“Do you ever get nervous?” Jon asked as he finally opened the piano fall.

“I don’t have the luxury of getting nervous. It would only interfere with my concentration,” Damian answered back curtly.

“Oh, that’s an interesting way to look at it…”Jon mumbled while dabbing at a key. “I still get nervous every time I compete, and afterwards I can never get my hands to stop shaking right away.”

“That is a sign of your immaturity as a competitor,” Damian shrugged between plucks. “After enough competitions, that feeling will eventually subside.”

“Is that so…” Jon trailed with a hazy look. “Honestly, competing isn’t really all that interesting to me…”

Damian’s attention refocused onto Jon.

“And why not? If you don’t compete, how else can you measure your skill against the million other pianists out there?”

“Why do I need to do that?” 

Now Damian was looking at Jon incredulously as though the answer were obvious.

“Because if you intend to make it in this industry, everyone needs to know you are more worthwhile than everyone else.”

“So you want to make playing the violin your future career?”

Damian’s chest started to puff with pride. “Of course. Why else would I play?”

“Because, you just like to.”

Damian narrowed his eyes onto Jon who was looking at him strangely. Was the boy challenging his motivation?

“The homeless vagrants on the street corners performing for dimes just _like to play_ ,” Damian sneered.

“So you just play as a means to live?”

Damian shrugged. “It’s the only thing that truly makes this path worthwhile to me.”

What was with this line of questioning?

“I…” Jon’s face twisted. “That makes me feel a little sad…”

Damian felt his offense skyrocket and scowled. “Don’t pity me! There is nothing to feel sorry about just because you and I do not agree on the same ideals.”

He set his violin down and glared at Jon with scrutiny.

“So why do you play, hm? What reason is there for you to look down on me?”

“I’m sorry,” Jon quickly apologized. “I didn’t mean it like that at all. I’m not looking down on you or anything. I was just,” his eyes started to wander, and he mumbled uneasily. “I just thought you got a little more enjoyment out of playing was all.”

“I enjoy winning,” Damian huffed. 

“Ah, okay…” Jon nodded as he tried to settle Damian’s looming anger by redirecting their conversation.

“Well, the reason I play is because…” his face softened. “I just love the music, but originally that wasn’t the reason at all.”

Damian crossed his arms over his chest and looked at Jon expectantly. Jon started to feel anxious under Damian’s critical glare and let out a nervous laugh.

“My dad is a really kind person. He gets along with everyone he meets and tries to go out of his way to help everyone,” Jon smiled at the recollection. 

“He really is the best dad...always supporting me, always so cheerful and kind, but at the same time…even though he’s always smiling,” Jon’s eyes darkened. “He seems so sad…”

Jon let out a sigh and started to fiddle with the ends of his sleeves.

“You see, before I was born, my parents got in an accident. The last thing my mom did before dying was give birth to me. I think though,” Jon grimaced. “I think my dad never got over what happened…he never out right says so, but I can tell…”

The boy let out a long sigh and shook his head before looking back and Damian and slightly recovering.

“In any case, one day when I was really young, I happened to find an old box in my dad’s study, one that had a lot of dust and a bunch of old tapes. When my dad saw them, he had this really sad look in his eyes, but decided to play them for me anyways.”

Jon’s reminiscent gaze returned.

“My dad told me that I‘d finally get to see my mom. When I heard the news, I was so excited I laughed and cried at the same time.”

The boy chuckled a little at the thought.

“The videos were old home recordings, several starring my mom.

I’d seen pictures of her before, but never heard her laugh,” Jon’s eyes glazed over. “She was so pretty, but the thing that got me the most was listening to her play the piano. After that, I saw something for the first time.”

Jon closed his eyes so he could see the memory clearly again. 

“My dad’s _real_ smile.”

When Damian saw the look of pure content on Jon’s face, he had to bite down on his jaw to keep from gasping.

“After that moment, I decided I wanted to learn how to play because I thought if I got good like her, then one day, I could make my dad smile like that again.

Of course, the longer I played, the more I realized the reason someone could learn to love the music, but still, every time I go on stage to perform,” Jon brought a hand to his chest and sighed peacefully. 

“I always look at my dad right before, and when I see that smile on his face, I remember why I love doing this so much.”

Damian was a bit speechless and taken by the expression on Jon’s face. When the younger boy blinked his eyes back open, Damian quickly turned his gaze away.

Something in Damian’s chest didn’t feel right anymore, and he wasn’t exactly sure what kind of look he might have given Jon.

“Well,” Damian eventually grunted. “My reasoning may not be as _sentimental_ as yours, but I will say this.

When I play the violin and accomplish the things that I do, I feel a sense of pride not only in my abilities but also in myself, and to me, regardless what path I take, if it is something I can be proud of, it is something worthwhile.”

“Damian…” Jon murmured with the same glossy look of adoration he often gave his senior.

“You’re right,” he nodded with a smile. “There are many different reasons to play, and none have to be the same. Just as long as it’s something you can be happy doing, and lately getting to play with you makes it even more worthwhile.”

Damian shrugged his agreeance, but at the same time felt a little empty. Sure he was happy that he’d accomplished so much in his young career but regardless of all his achievements, he never once remembered smiling over them like Jon.

“I…” Damian started before retracting his words and muttering lowly. “It is good I was finally able to find a permanent accompanist…”

Jon’s eyes glistened. “ _Really?_ You really want me to play with you for good?”

Damian sneered at Jon and snorted. “Well, let us see how we do at our first performance. Then I can say for sure.”

“ _Ugh_ ,” Jon groaned as his entire expression deflated. “Now I’m even more nervous!”

************************************************

“You seem quieter than usual,” Bruce casually stated.

The whole night they were together, Clark seemed distracted. He also kept stealing glances in Bruce’s direction as if he wanted say something but didn’t have the nerve. At first, Bruce thought it best not to ask and waited for Clark to make a move. Then again, the lack of Clark’s mostly nonsensical chattering somehow didn’t feel right, and Bruce eventually caved in.

“Oh, umm, I guess I was just thinking…” Clark answered with the most reassuring smile he could manage.

It wasn’t convincing.

“So you usually go silent when in thought?” Bruce prodded a little more.

“Yeah, I guess…” Clark mumbled still seeming a bit unfocused.

Bruce let out a small snort and smirked. “Well, then that explains why most of the noise you prattle out is nonsense if you only think when silent.”

“Hey!” Clark bit back when he realized Bruce was teasing him.

Bruce laughed when he saw Clark’s cute wrinkled nose of disapproval and was happy to see him more like his usual self. Now maybe he could finally get the man to properly respond.

“I wonder though,” Bruce hummed as he turned a little from his spot on the couch so he could face Clark. “What thoughts would leave the great Clark Kent so speechless?”

Clark’s brow furrowed. “Well…” he shrugged nonchalantly. “ _You_. Actually, I was thinking about you.”

Bruce’s expression went from cheeky to wide.

Clark smiled when he saw a faint flush and leaned in a little closer. “Then again, you’ve been on my mind a lot these days, Bruce.”

Bruce withdrew a little and tried to hide his face. “Oh, is that so…”

“Haha, I love that about you,” Clark chuckled.

“What?” Bruce snapped.

Clark nuzzled Bruce’s neck. “The way you get all flustered when you’re embarrassed. “

Bruce pushed the man’s face away and huffed. “Don’t make me a part of your delusions.”

“So cute,” Clark grinned as he started to pull Bruce into his lap.

“The pink ears and scrunched up nose.” 

Bruce grunted and Clark laughed.

“That one little brow slanted lower than the other.” 

Bruce growled a little when Clark lightly kissed the mentioned spot. He then took Bruce by the chin and pulled their gazes in line.

“And the way your lips curl as if you want to force a frown but can’t.”

“Quiet you,” Bruce ordered.

“Hey!” Clark yelped as Bruce suddenly grabbed him by the collar and forcefully yanked them both towards the couch.

There was only a tiny bit of space between them now, Clark using his elbows as leverage to keep from completely crushing Bruce with his weight.

Bruce brought one leg around Clark’s waist so he couldn’t escape and smiled at him devilishly. He then slipped a hand underneath the material of Clark’s shirt and hummed.

“You can _think_ about me all you like.” 

Clark hissed when he felt a hand stroke his exposed abs and drift a little lower. 

The maestro then wrapped both arms behind Clark’s neck and chuckled. “I promise you though the _experience_ is so much better.”

After that, Bruce closed the last bit of space separating their lips and their bodies.

************************************************************

The heat at his back was a little uncomfortable. Bruce tried to move away from it, but realized he was pinned in place. 

Clark had a strong arm wrapped around the man’s torso and the more Bruce stirred, the tighter it became.

Usually Bruce welcomed the warmth, especially on cold nights like this. Then again, using his boyfriend’s inane body heat to his advantage was one thing, spooning, however, had never been the maestro’s forte. Also, for some reason, Clark was being extra clingy lately, and Bruce was at his limit.

Realizing he didn’t have the energy to fight Clark’s embrace, Bruce tried to shift their position so he could get more comfortable.

He brought a hand over the one covering his bare chest and started to move it before he suddenly froze.

The moment he made contact with _it_ , Bruce felt his heart twist.

The feeling of something cold and metallic touched his palm and Bruce felt sick.

The room was still pretty dark, and Bruce couldn’t properly see it, but he really didn’t need to in order to recognize what it was.

No, it was actually something Bruce would look at often whenever Clark wasn’t paying attention. Something tiny and seemingly insignificant to most the world, but to Bruce it was a great source of pain and anxiety.

Always there on Clark’s left finger. There since the day they first met, and even there despite them being together.

Bruce brushed the silver gold wedding band one last time before slightly curling in on himself and sighing. 

How much longer did he have to wait? Then again, the thought of it one day disappearing left Bruce’s chest aching with a different kind of fear. 

Maybe things were just better off this way. If Bruce allowed it to go any further than this, he’d be leaving himself wide open again, and that was something Bruce promised he’d never let happen again.

************************************************************

“Clark!” The younger man greeted excitedly.

“Hi, Dick,” Clark waved back when he saw the pianist from across the coffee house. “Thanks for meeting with me today.”

“Of course,” Dick nodded as he gestured for Clark to take the seat in front of him and signaled their barista. 

“I mean, I really wanted to sit and talk with you longer last time. It’s always great catching up.”

“Yes, it’s always great talking with you too,” Clark smiled as he remembered the cheerful young Dick he met long ago. Even though so many years passed since that time, and many things in Clark’s life had changed, it was nice to know that a few good things in this world could remain constant.

After they both got their drink orders in, Dick started to chat.

“So I finally met your son, Jon.”

“Really?” Clark exclaimed. “He must’ve been thrilled considering he’s a huge fan.” 

“I’m really honored that the son of Lois and Clark would feel that way,” Dick chuckled with a faint blush.

“Our family just has an ear for good music,” Clark insisted.

“And the talent to match,” Dick added. “Jon is a remarkable musician, but even more so, an incredible kid considering he was able to wrangle in someone like Damian.”

“Yeah, it seems like they’re pretty good friends now,” Clark agreed with a content shrug. Sure Jon had friends in the past, but never someone he’d been so enthusiastic about.

“Speaking of pretty good _friends_ ,” Dick hummed with a sly smirk. “You and Bruce seem to be getting along rather well.”

Clark nearly spit out his coffee when Dick made his sudden and blunt statement.

“Oh, yeah…about that…” he looked off to the side.

“Oh wow!” Dick jeered when he saw Clark’s blush. “Honestly I just had a few preconceived notions, but this is actually more than I could have wished for.

“Dick, I don’t know what you’re-“

“Wow, life really has a funny way of working things out,” Dick continued to cheer.

Clark wasn’t sure how to respond. Was he really that transparent, or was Dick just that good at fishing?

“Well, I won’t embarrass you anymore,” Dick laughed while giving a thumb of approval. “But just know that I’m completely rooting for you and if there’s anything I can do to help out, let me know.”

Clark’s eyes dimmed and his voice went low. “Actually, there is…”

Dick’s brow quirked inquisitively and he waited for Clark to explain.

“I wanted to ask you about Jason.”

Dick’s entire demeanor dropped. “Oh…”

“If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine,” Clark immediately assured as he saw the look of pain in his companion’s eyes. “I mean, I did read up a little on it myself,” Clark looked down at the table and grimaced. “I feel terrible. I had no idea something so horrible happened that forced him away from his promising music career...” 

Dick didn’t answer and was quiet for a few more seconds before replying.

“I’m sorry. I can’t blame you for being curious since I brought it up in the first place…”

He smiled weakly. “I guess I should finish what I started, but…”

Dick looked at Clark with concern. “If Bruce ever found out…”

“I know,” Clark sighed. “He was pretty upset when he caught me with those old recordings.”

“He DID?!” Dick exploded in a panic. “Crap…well, I’m sure he won’t be too thrilled the next time I see him…”

Dick looked at his cup and exhaled his defeat.

“Well, I’m sure he’s already pissed at me now but really what’s new?” He chuckled a bit sheepishly and looked back to Clark. “I guess I mine as well tell you the full details now. Though what you heard on the news is probably pretty much it.”

“Yeah, the news covered the fact that Jason was some kind of delinquent that the GSPA happened to give a scholarship to out of the kindness of their hearts.”

“Is that how they painted it?” Dick snorted with mild disgust. “I bet they didn’t even mention Bruce’s involvement.”

“No,” Clark nodded. “But they did go into detail about Jason’s sketchy past connections, and how he was attacked by some of them over a debt. Then out of retaliation they…” Clark’s voice wavered. “Mutilated one of his hands…”

“They were so cut and dry about it, geez,” Dick gritted bitterly. “But I guess if someone had to sum it all up, that’s basically how it went.”

“Yeah, but I can tell from your eyes there’s a lot more to the story.”

Dick didn’t answer but managed a nod.

“Dick, I know Jason was a little rough around the edges, but the way that he played…that kind of passion and skill isn’t born from any normal person, and I know for a fact that kid wasn’t the criminal the media tried to paint.” 

Dick nodded his agreeance again.

Clark felt bad. Dredging up the past, it had to be painful. For a moment, he mulled over his next words before he finally decided to get to the point. 

“Dick, why does Bruce believe what happened to Jason was his fault?”

“Well, I guess that’s the side of the story the media never cares to cover.” 

Dick smiled again but it was even emptier than before.

“Alright, I guess I can fill in the rest of the holes.”

To Be Continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really debated on whether or not I would share the next two chapters, and I almost didn’t. Then again, I already drafted them out so it feels like a waste not to.
> 
> I realize, though, I’m getting away from the main story, and some might not be all that interested since this is a Superbat fic. So for those of you who don’t really care to read another flashback, you can skip the next two chapters. It just gives a little in depth insight on Bruce’s relationship with Jason and might help readers relate to why Bruce’s current state was so affected by his tragedy. 
> 
> Okay, well thank you to those who are still reading and sticking with the story. I will try to release both chapters at the same time, and after that the story is really going to start moving towards the end!
> 
> Title is after Paul de Senneville’s Mariage D'amoure: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DZk7jWTMLxU
> 
> It’s the song Jon heard his mom play for the first time. I think it sums up Jon’s and Clark’s impression and feelings towards Lois, sad yet beautiful.


	22. Quasi Una Fantasia (Almost a Fantasy)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you aren't interested in another flashback, you can skip this chapter about Bruce and Jason...

The hands tucked deep inside his pockets twitched with anticipation.

“Whoa, look at this swanky villa,” the boy whistled as he continued to take in his surroundings. 

“Oi Todd, get movin’,” the gruff older man growled as he flicked the boy in the back of the head. “This ain’t the Louvre. We don’t got time to be gapin.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the boy grumbled while rubbing the spot he’d just been hit.

The man didn’t seem the slightest bit intimidated by the boy’s bitter scowl. By now he was used to the kid’s glare of disdain.

“Make sure you take care of all the boxes in here and the room over,” he instructed before eventually leaving the boy and his frown. 

“Fine,” the boy muttered as he kicked at one of the boxes. It was then that his eyes caught sight of something more interesting than his sulking.

“Whoa!” he exclaimed as he made his way towards the source of his intrigue. “Now ain’t she a beaut.”

**********************************************************

After the last note sounded the room, the boy let out all the air he’d been holding. 

He just knew the moment he laid eyes on it, the way the piano commanded the entire room despite it being tucked away in an ill forgotten corner, covered in dust and showing signs of its age and disuse. 

The treble and resonance produced by this masterfully constructed instrument was unlike anything the boy had ever played, and despite knowing the commotion he probably stirred, he had to chance it. His fingers just couldn’t resist the temptation of what sounds it could produce from something this beautifully crafted. It was just begging to be played, and the boy knew he’d never get the chance to perform on something this fancy again.

“ _In the Hall of the Mountain King_ …” A deep voice hummed with amusement. “Well didn’t you take a few liberties there at the end?”

“AH!” the boy shouted as he jumped nearly two feet into the air.

“Holy shit, man!” the boy cursed loudly. He then turned around only to meet gazes with a dark sheik looking man leaning against the doorway.

Something about the slight curve of his lips really annoyed the boy.

He eyed the blue-eyed stranger suspiciously and snapped. “How you gonna sneak up on someone like that? Who the hell are you anyways?”

“The owner,” the man evenly replied. 

“Oh!” the boy blurted his expression transforming from stern to surprised. “Um…I know I didn’t ask to-”

“As I was saying,” the man cut in as he finally approached the boy. “You were doing pretty well there till the end.”

The boy’s nose wrinkled with annoyance, but his posture slightly deflated giving away his shame. “Oh, well, I didn’t exactly remember how it went. I only heard the song a few times on TV so I made up the rest.”

For the first time since their meeting, the man’s face showed signs of open emotion. “Wait a minute? You’ve never seen the score? You just played it by ear?”

“Oh…yeah, that’s what I always do,” the boy shrugged. “Besides, it’s not like I can read it anyways.”

The man was now eyeing the boy with curious scrutiny.

“So then how did you learn to play?”

“At the bar my dad used to own,” the boy answered as he remembered many long nights busting tables. “We had an old piano no one cared about in the back that I always thumbed around on.” 

“So you’re self-taught?”

The boy wasn’t exactly sure what was with line of questioning, but the way the man looked at him with so much disbelief was starting to irritate him.

“Yeah, so what’s wrong with that? It’s not like all of us can afford fancy piano instructors.”

“We don’t get paid all that much,” the man chuckled humorously. 

“You’re an instructor?”

“Yes,” the man nodded with the same half smirk that first irked the boy. “I teach at the Gotham School of Performing Arts.”

“Oh yeah, I heard of that place,” the boy snorted while trying to feign indifference. “It’s the fancy campus on the edge of the north side of town.”

“TODD!” a voice bellowed behind them. “What do you think you’re doing?!”

The boy’s posture shrank. “Uh oh.”

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Wayne,” the man apologized when he noticed Bruce.

“Its fine,” Bruce assured while gesturing a dismissive hand. “Young Mr. Todd and I were just having a small chat. If anything I was the one keeping him away from his work.”

“Well,” the man laughed gauchely while rubbing the back of his neck. “If you rather pay the kid to talk, I’ll tell you Mr. Wayne we do charge by the hour,” he glared warning back at the boy. “Though the wage for a kid who’d rather _run his mouth_ is considerably less than if he _pulled his actual weight_.”

“Yeah,yeah, I hear yah,” the boy groused as he finally picked up a box. “I’m getting back to work.”

Just as he started to follow behind his grumbling boss, Bruce called out.

“Mr. Todd. If you ever happen by my way, the GSPA would gladly welcome a young talented musician such as yourself.”

The boy’s face warped into an incredulous shape before he suddenly busted out. “Haha, you’re really funny, Old man.”

“So I’ve been told,” Bruce quipped back.

***************************************************

“Mr. Wayne, we found the group that tried to rob your home,” the officer explained as he guided the man through the precinct. “Apparently their moving service is a front so they can stake out potential homes.

Luckily your security and surveillance system had that dummy switch and a silent alarm so we were able to catch them in time. Though some of them did manage to get away, we were able to track them back at their warehouse.”

The officer turned back towards Bruce who’d fallen a bit behind.

“We appreciate your cooperation and coming down so you could try and help us identify them.”

Bruce was looking towards a holding cell not too far away with a troubled countenance.

“That boy…” his eyes tapered when he recognized the scruffy red-headed teen. “He was part of this too?”

The cop grimaced back a disturbed frown. “Yeah, apparently so. Such a shame to see them turn to crime at a young age…”

Bruce’s eyes went hazy with contemplation. “Yes, it would be a complete waste…”

*************************************************

Jason wasn’t sure how he managed it, but somehow he’d fared a pretty lenient sentence. 

He thought for sure he would’ve been thrown into a juvenile facility, especially considering his latest offense, but somehow he managed to scrape by with only a year of probation and about five months of community service.

“It’s you!” the boy gasped when he entered his parole advisor’s office and saw the last man he expected.

Bruce stood up from his seat, and Jason felt his irritation rise. The man was donning the same complacent smirk that seemed too natural for his annoyingly perfect face, as though he knew something Jason didn’t and wasn’t planning to tell him anytime soon.

“Hello again, Mr. Todd.” Bruce greeted while offering his hand.

“How on the…” the boy balked as he ignored the gesture and looked towards his parole officer suspiciously. “What’s going on?”

“In lieu of prison time, I thought you’d rather settle with serving your community,” Bruce answered for him.

“Well, no duh,” Jason snorted.

“I had a few words with the judge who handled your case,” Bruce continued to explain.

“Isn’t that kind of illegal?” Jason sneered as he glanced at the officer and then back at Bruce wryly.

Bruce chuckled not at all threatened or worried. “I didn’t tamper with your case. I just gave a few suggestions on community service options.”

“So what now? I gotta kiss up to yah for the next 200 hours of my life?” Jason groaned.

“Yes,” Bruce nodded. “For the next several months, two hours of your day belong to me, though at least you will have your weekends free.”

“I told them to let me handle disabling your system,” Jason huffed while throwing his hands into the air. “But oh no, they always want little Jay to play lookout, as if a forty year old baldy knows more about computers than a fourteen year old teen.”

“Yes, I do get the impression you’re rather bright, Mr. Todd.”

“Oh geez, Old man,” Jason spat as he scowled at Bruce. “If you call me Mr. Todd again, I might actually hurl. Stop calling me that, it reminds me of my dad.” 

He gestured his thumb at himself suggestively and sneered. “The name is Jason, okay. Friends call me Jay, so you can call me Jason.”

For a moment, Bruce just looked at the boy peculiarly before closing his eyes and smirking. “Alright Jason, but while we are on the subject,” he reopened his deep azures revealing something a bit imperious. “My name is not _Old man_. You will call me Bruce or Mr. Wayne.”

Jason felt his interest peak when he saw the slip in Bruce’s normally complacent demeanor. Maybe the man would be more interesting than he first thought.

“Yeah, I know who you are,” Jason snorted. “Mister hoity toity trust funder. Fine, Bruce, now what is it that you want me to do?”

“Well, you will just be my assistant for the time being,” Bruce answered.

“Pfft,” Jason laughed. “That’s it? Doesn’t sound too hard.”

“I’m in charge of several of the youth music programs in this district. Not to mention I’m also the lead coordinator for Gotham’s annual music festival. So if you think you’ll be spending your time slacking off,” Bruce’s smile darkened. “Think again, Jason.”

The boy held back a shudder. Maybe _intimidating_ was a better word for the man than _interesting_ … 

*************************************************

Jason let out a hefty breath as he dropped the last load next to the table. He couldn’t remember moving this many boxes even back during his counterfeit moving gig.

Bruce was currently preoccupied with something at his desk and didn’t even bother looking at the boy.

“After you’re done with that, I want you to arrange all the scores in those boxes by instrument. Also be sure to alphabetize everything and separate them by composer and date of production.”

Jason’s jaw dropped when he looked back at the several dozen boxes he just brought in. There was no way he could complete such a daunting task.

“Why is there so much music?!” He whined as he collapsed at the table in front of him. “I mean, all this crap is basically the same.”

“Maybe the repetitive garbage you listen to,” Bruce countered. “But classics such at these all have their own unique and timeless charm.”

“It’s just boring if you ask me,” Jason grumbled. “And none of it is all that hard to play.”

“Well, maybe not the things you’re used to hearing,” Bruce frowned.

“Pssh,” Jason jeered. “So far I can play anything I hear.”

The corner of Bruce’s mouth lifted. “Really now? _Anything_?”

He finally turned around in his seat and faced the boy who was still flopped lifelessly over the table.

“Then how about a bit of a wager?”

Jason slightly lifted his head with intrigue. The maestro almost looked excited though it was really hard to tell.

“I’ll pick one song from this pile of boring music. If by the end of the week you can play it with minimal mistakes, you don’t have to come in for community service anymore.”

“What really?!” Jason exclaimed as he sat back up.

“Yes, I will sign all your papers now, and you can be free to go and do as you please.”

“No shit?”

“None at all,” Bruce nodded.

Jason narrowed his eyes on the man trying hard to size him up and discern whether he was lying or not. As usual, the man was impossible to read, his face always sporting an indifferent mask. Then again, what really did he have to lose?

“Fine then, Old Man, you’re on,” Jason smiled before his expression suddenly dropped. “But I have to hear the music to actually play it…”

Bruce’s face furrowed. “Oh, then I suppose it will put you at a bit of a disadvantage considering you can’t even read the score.”

“I told you already, learning to read those stupid dots is overrated!” Jason scoffed.

“If you say so,” Bruce shrugged.

Jason scowled back at him and Bruce returned the glare with a knowing smile.

“Fine, I’ll play the song once for you to hear and even provide a recording for you to use as a reference.”

Jason’s face lit back up. “Really?” he slightly blushed when he realized he sounded too excited and quickly recovered with a haughty taunt. “I guess you like losing bets? You’re practically handing me this win.”

Bruce shrugged again.

“And let me tell you, maestro, I’m going to be out playing you by tomorrow, just wait and see.”

“If you say so…” Bruce smirked.

**************************************************

“This, how in the hell….” It was about the tenth time the boy played the recording that day, but no matter how many times he heard it, the results never changed. He was completely overwhelmed.

Jason gaped back at Bruce in complete disbelief that the typically mild and indifferent maestro could play something so torrential. Where was the man hiding all this fervor and who exactly was he?

Never in his wildest dreams did Jason imagine such a song was hiding among the piles and scores of music. There was no way he could play something like this.

“Something wrong?” Bruce asked as he continued to focus the majority of his attention on his notes.

“N-no,” Jason stammered while turning his head anxiously away.

“Oh and your practicing is not to cut into your current community service time either,” Bruce casually added. “You haven’t won our bet yet.”

“What?!” Jason exploded.

Bruce looked up from his desk and smiled at the boy drolly. “So please be sure to arrange all this _boring_ music like I asked, though if you want to stay late to practice afterwards, that’s fine by me.”

“Y-you, bastard,” Jason trembled back when he saw Bruce’s triumphant expression. “You tricked me!”

Bruce’s raised a brow of challenge. “How so? Isn’t this boring music _simple_? Wouldn’t you be _outplaying me_ in no time? Or were those just empty threats of a boasting child?”

Jason puffed his chest up. “Of course not!” He snapped back. There was no way he could back down now.

**************************************************

“Beethoven.”

“Hm?” Bruce hummed when he heard the boy behind him but still didn’t give him his full attention.

Jason paused for a moment as though he was about to lose his nerve. That’s when the hands at his sides balled up and he shook his head. 

“This Ludwig guy, he’s the one who wrote the song?”

“Yes.”

“He…” Jason’s voice wavered. “He wrote a lot…”

“That he did.”

Jason held up the score labeled _Sonata quasi una fantasia_. “A bunch of it looks pretty crazy like this too…” he lowered his head and mumbled. “Or so I noticed when arranging his pile…”

Bruce smiled, but Jason couldn’t see it.

“Yes, he was a masterful composer who produced many works such as the one you’re facing now.”

Jason went silent for a long moment and fiddled with the score in his hand. How could he tell Bruce what he really wanted to say without admitting defeat?

The boy felt his face growing hot and tried to hide his blush. “Okay, fine, I’ll admit. This guy isn’t as boring as some of the others.”

Bruce shrugged and Jason swallowed down a little more of his pride.

“And you’re really the one playing on this recording?”

“Yes.”

Jason clutched the music tighter, his hands shaking a little from the tight grip. After a few more agonizing seconds of silence, Jason finally blurted.

“Fine Bruce, you win.”

Bruce finally set his work down and quirked his head. “Hm?”

Jason was beyond frustrated. Was Bruce really going to make him say it twice?

“I can’t do it, okay!” he shouted. “I can’t play this at all!”

“That’s not true,” Bruce replied while finally turning to meet the boy’s red face.

“I said I can’t do it, are you deaf?” The flustered Jason snarled as he felt tears of frustration start to breach his eyes. Not only did he feel completely defeated from losing their bet, but now he was tormented with the fact that he wanted nothing more than to play the song he was now hopelessly in love with.

Bruce sighed and gave the boy a genuine look of sympathy. “Maybe not _now_.”

“Bruce, what do you want, huh?” Jason snapped. “You won the bet, so what do you want from me?”

“I believe I already got it.”

Jason glared unbridled fury at the maestro. “You make no sense at all, you know that?!” He huffed before storming out of the room.

“So I’ve been told…” Bruce mumbled as he watched him exit.

********************************************************

Bruce gave his student his final instructions before walking him to the door and waving him off.

Jason sat in the office adjacent to Bruce’s practice room and snorted. “Pff.”

“What’s so funny?” Bruce asked when he realized the boy had intentionally made the sound to be heard.

Jason smirked back at the maestro proudly. “Well, I was just thinking…what a waste.”

Bruce frowned at the boy. “Explain.”

Jason’s caviler grin lifted. “Well, I’ve seen how much tuition cost here, parents pushing all that money into this place just to have kids who play like _that_.”

Jason ran a casual hand through his hair and shrugged.

“I mean, I heard you play before, Bruce. So I know it’s not your fault that kid sucks. How long has he been going here anyways?”

“Three years now, though he played for at least five before attending.”

“Are you kidding me!” Jason hooted with a mock laugh. “Unbelievable.”

Bruce crossed his arms over his chest and scowled his disapproval at Jason’s words. “Marcus is actually one of my best pupils. I think he’ll score pretty high at his competition.”

“Wow, then the bar must be pretty low for those judges,” Jason continued to snicker.

“Oh, and you think you can do better?” Bruce asked.

“Of course, I can,” Jason smirked.

“You? The one who can’t even read the music?”

Jason’s smile instantly faded.

“Performing is one thing, Jason, but competing is another. The judges mark for each mistake you make and want the music played as close to the original score as possible.

If you can’t even understand or read it, then how do you expect to accomplish such a feat?”

Jason lowered his head at Bruce’s question and didn’t answer.

“Sure you have twice the dexterity as Marcus, but as you are now, you will never outperform him in any competition.”

Jason balled up his fists and clenched his jaw. It was then that he remembered the song he tried playing just a few weeks back. How frustrating it’d all been. So much so, he never could get the song out of his head and was still listening to Bruce’s recording to this day. He even lifted the score from Bruce and spent many nights lying in his bed studying it and trying to make sense of all the dots. 

“So you think,” Jason mumbled hesitantly. “If I learned to…” he stopped and willed his nerve. For the last two weeks he wanted to ask Bruce, but his pride held him back firmly. This time he couldn’t let it stop him.

“You really think I could get better if I learn to read the music?” he finally managed to stammer out.

“Of course,” Bruce assured.

Jason was still looking at the ground before Bruce kneeled down to meet his level and smiled.

“And I can prove it to you.”

Jason lifted his head back up and met Bruce’s gaze. “Huh?”

What he saw being reflected back was something hopeful and reassuring. No one had ever looked at the boy like this before.

“How about another wager?” Bruce smiled. “If you allow me to dedicate an hour of your community service to instructing you, I guarantee you will beat Marcus’s score. What do you say?”

Jason felt the pit of his chest tighten with a swell of emotions. 

Bruce’s words, the tender tenor of his voice, the deep sincere color of his eyes, was this man really offering him some kind of a chance?

Suddenly Jason couldn’t handle Bruce’s expression and turned his burning cheeks away.

“Well, if it means I don’t have to work, then what do I have to lose?” he tried to answer coyly. In the end, he couldn’t force back his smile and ended up looking flustered instead. 

“Alright Brucie, it’s a deal.”

*****************************************************

“I did it, Bruce!” the boy triumphed as he waved the score results Bruce just handed him victoriously into the air.

Bruce quirked a small satisfied smile when he saw the glow of excitement radiating off of Jason’s face. Typically the boy was trying so hard to act like a hardened adult. It wasn’t often Bruce got to see his pure childlike smile. 

“I had no doubt that you would,” Bruce commended.

Jason’s blissful grin turned to a haughty smirk. “And not only did I whop your golden boy, I won the entire competition!”

“Hmm, yes it’ true that you beat Marcus, but he still performed well above my expectations,” Bruce nodded contently.

That wasn’t quite the response Jason was expecting. What would it take for him to finally rile the maestro up?

Jason’s cheek’s puffed up with pride and irritation, and he tried to jab again.

“That sounds like loser talk, Old man.”

Bruce’s expression still showed no signs of changing.

Jason stepped in front of the Bruce’s desk so he was forced to look at him. He then flashed another one of his self-satisfied grins.

“It’s okay if you’re jealous and wish you had a student like me permanently to brag about, and I bet it just really tore into all those rich snobs and your school that a _nobody_ off the streets lifted a title they’ve carried for what, the last ten years?”

Bruce chuckled. “Yes, actually it did, and that’s why,” Bruce handed the boy an envelope that’d been under his hand the entire time. “This is for you.”

Jason’s expression completely fell to confusion. “Huh?”

He barely skimmed the letter before mumbling. “The Martha Grant?”

“It’s a scholarship,” Bruce explained. “All expenses paid for the next four years. It even includes the cost of lodging and meals here at the dorms.”

Jason frowned and suddenly all his earlier bravado disappeared. “Bruce, I don’t need your charity.”

Bruce’ face twisted with offense. “I assure you, Jason, I don’t give away handouts. You earned this.

The GSPA prides itself on having the best students in the city. When some unclaimed talent suddenly strips away their prestige, they will do anything to reobtain their dominance.”

“So basically, they want me to attend so they can save face?” Jason asked while looking at the scholarship thoughtfully.

“Well, that is part of it, but at the same time some value the importance of nurturing raw talent despite the restraints of financial status and lineage.” 

“Then I can make them look even better,” Jason smirked.

“Well, yes,” Bruce smiled back. “In any case, around this time every year we look for suitable candidates such as yourself. I just merely made mention of you to the selection board.”

Jason looked past the paper and eyed Bruce suspiciously.

“In other words you gave me a recommendation.”

“Yes.”

The boy’s lips curled to a shrewd shape. “You planned this from the start, didn’t you?”

Bruce didn’t answer.

Jason pointed the certificate at Bruce. “I’m wise to your games, old man.”

Bruce sighed and started to take the paper away. “Jason, if you don’t want to accept this scholarship, that’s fine. I know about a dozen other students who-”

“No!” Jason shouted as he snatched it back and held it close to his chest.

“I…” his face turned red when he realized what he did, and he turned his back to the man. “Fine then Bruce, if you want me to be your student that badly, I guess it can’t be helped.”

Bruce’s smile lifted as he examined the pink flush behind Jason’s ears.

He then masked his own contentment with an amused smirk. “Oh, and you automatically assume I will select you as my pupil? My selection process is dependent on how impressed I am with your entry piece.”

“Oh please, Bruce!” Jason snorted as he whipped back around and sneered. “We all know you’ll be so _impressed_ with my entry, you’ll be moved to tears.”

Bruce matched Jason’s feisty grin with his own challenging expression. “Well, then. I look forward to hearing it.”

“I bet!” Jason boasted before heading towards the door and waving the scholarship in his hand. “See you in the fall, old man.”

*********************************************************************

The boy had been on top of the world, until he turned the corner that led to the alleyway behind the bar. That was usually the case after his practices with Bruce. Sure the man was shrewd and instructed with an iron fist, but Jason liked that the maestro always pushed him beyond his limits. It would only be a matter of time before he was playing that song even better than Bruce. He could already imagine the look on the maestro’s face, and it made the experience even more satisfying to think about.

Since being accepted into the GSPA, Jason had avoided the place he used to call home, but tonight he finally came back to pick up the last few things he’d left behind.

Once upon a time, Jason’s father owned this bar. That was before the crippling debt that led to him handing over the lease. Between his mother’s addictions and his father’s gambling, Jason was surprised it didn’t happen sooner. Still, he remembered one point in his life when his family was at some semblance of _happy_.

After his mother passed, his dad became even more hopeless, leaving the boy to pretty much fend for himself. He even busted tables at the bar just so he could have a cot in the basement to lay his head. 

Luckily the scholarship got him an actual bed and three square meals a day. Who would’ve thought something he could _honestly_ do with his own two hands would be his ticket to a better future. How his luck had completely changed the day he met Bruce. Even though he would never say it out loud, he really was thankful to the maestro.

“Hey Jay,” a familiar voice greeted when he entered the bar. “Haven’t seen you for a while.”

“That’s because I got better things to do with my life then slum around with you losers,” Jason muttered as he tried to walk past the man.

The man scowled at the boy. “Oh, you get to go to some fancy upscale school and suddenly you think you’re better than the rest of us?”

He stood up from his seat and glared down at the boy who was several feet lacking.

“No Todd, just because they dress a dog in fancy clothes doesn’t make it any less of a _mutt_.”

“Ttt,” Jason ticked as he pushed past him.

He didn’t get far before he was yanked back by the arm. “Where’s your old man, Jay?”

Jason shirked out of the hold and spat back. “Like I would know? I haven’t seen that good for nothing since he nearly got me thrown in Juvie.”

The man narrowed his eyes on the boy gauging him for any lies. Deciding that he wasn’t, he grinned his gnarly teeth at the boy. “Well, you better hope he shows up soon.”

“Why should I?”

Jason held back a gasp when he was suddenly grabbed by the collar and forced to face the man at eye level. His feet barely touched the ground and the smell of cheap alcohol stung his nose.

“You’re old man owes us a lot of money,” the man growled as he tightened the noose like grip around the boy’s neck. “And the way I see it, the sins of the father fall to the son.”

Jason grunted when he was pushed roughly away and nearly lost his balance. He then glared back up the man and tried but failed to match his threatening glower.

“Just remember, Jay, if I can’t get my payment out your old man, I’m taking it out of your hide next!” 

To be continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Jason was playing when Bruce first heard him:  
> Edvard Grieg's _Peer Gynt suite no. 1 op. 46 (ActII) I Dovregubbens hall (In the Hall of the Mountain King)_  
>  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l7zcS8yr33Q
> 
> Song from Bruce and Jason's wager:  
> Ludwig van Beethoven's _Quasi Una Fantasia Op. 27 No. 2 III - Presto - Agitato_  
>  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zucBfXpCA6s


	23. Quasi Una Fantasia part 2 Appassionata (Passionate)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Bruce and Jason flashback if you wish to skip this chapter...

“What’s going on?” The boy asked when he saw the crowd of girl’s standing in front of the practice room.

“We came to hear maestro’s latest star,” one of the girl’s exalted. 

“His style isn’t like anyone else at this school!” Another girl squealed.

“Yeah, it’s so raw and full of passion,” a third girl crooned.

The boy blinked at the trio with disbelief before looking back at the classroom where Jason was warming up. 

His nose wrinkled when he instantly recognized who they were talking about “Please, I can play circles around that street hack.”

“Really? So that’s why he beat you’re score at the last competition?” The first girl smirked.

“Beginner’s luck,” the boy huffed back. 

“Yeah right,” another girl snickered drolly. “Marcus, you know that’s got nothing to do with it.”

“Yeah Marcus, don’t be jealous just because Maestro has a new star now.”

The boy grimaced at the girls before turning his attention back towards the room where Bruce was shooing away the crowd.

*********************************************************

On the days he didn’t practice with Bruce, Jason often used the concert hall near his dorm. The sound quality was a lot better than any of the practice rooms, and not many students would use it since it was in an older building

“You know you shouldn’t be here,” a voice just behind the piano warned. 

“Why?” Jason snorted, “Because I didn’t sign up on the schedule for today? Look,” Jason defended, “When I got here no one was playing, and I didn’t see anyone’s name on the roster.”

Jason frowned when he finally met eyes with his persecutor. Of course it had to be one rich brat Jason disliked the most. Bruce’s pride and joy pupil, Marcus Thorne.

The other boy shook his head and clarified. “No, I mean at this school.”

Jason crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh, and who suddenly made you the head of admissions?” 

He smirked proudly at his challenger. “I earned my spot here, and I even did it without my _daddy_ having to wipe the chancellor’s ass with Benji’s crinkled green face.”

“Ah, so you aren’t as oblivious as you look?” Marcus chuckled. “You really do understand how things work around here.”

Jason finally stood up from the piano bench. “Are you calling me stupid?”

Marcus brought both hands up in mock defense. “I didn’t say that. You’re the one defensively barking out ideas from your own head.”

“And people call me a wise ass,” Jason muttered. “You over privileged brats aren’t any better, but you know,” Jason threatened as he stepped directly in front of the boy and cracked his knuckles. “Where I come from, kids with big mouths don’t have much to say after their jaws stop working.”

Marcus didn’t back down and only widened his smug grin. 

“Go ahead and hit me. You’ll be kicked out of here so fast you won’t even remember which door you came in from. Oh, but it was the side entrance wasn’t it? The front door is reserved for kids who actually belong here and not the charity cases.”

“WHY YOU!” Jason shouted as he grabbed Marcus by the front of his shirt.

For a moment, a bit of panic flashed across Marcus’s face, but it didn’t take long for him to quickly recover and retaliate.

“You and I both know the only reason you’re here is because maestro Wayne felt sorry for you. Sure he didn’t have to wipe any assess to get you here, but I’m sure someone’s butt had to be kissed. So feel free to undo all the maestro’s hard work and effort by hitting me. I’m sure a _hood_ like you doesn’t even know the first thing about appreciation.” 

Jason let out an angry growl. He’d actually wanted to put this kid in his place since the day they first met, but no amount of beating would change the truth behind Marcus’s words.

“You aren’t worth it!” Jason snarled as he pushed Marcus back against the piano.

“And neither are you,” Marcus crowed while straightening his blazer. “You think just because you attend here you have what it takes to make it in this industry? They’ll take one look at your criminal record and toss your resume straight in the trash.”

Jason dug into his own palms as his fists balled tighter. It was taking all his resolve to keep from wiping Marcus’s superior smile away. Of course, Jason already knew the best place to do something like that would be on the stage and not by letting himself be provoked into violence.

“Go ahead and enjoy life here while you can,” Marcus continued to mock. “You know once it’s all over, you’ll be back on the streets where you belong,”

Jason let out a tick of frustration and snatched up his music before hoping off the stage, but Marcus’s taunts followed until he left the hall.

“There’s not future for people like you in our world! Just give it up now while you’re ahead.”

**********************************************************

“No, no, no! All wrong!” Bruce growled as he smacked the stand with his wand several times. “Where is your head today? Are you even trying to play what’s written?”

“What does it matter if I do, Bruce?!” Jason immediately snapped back. “What’s the point if I play it right or not?!”

For a second, Bruce seemed a bit startled. Sure having a student lash back at him was no new occurrence, especially in Jason’s case, but usually it didn’t result in the boy saying such defeated things.

Calmly Bruce replied. “If you don’t, then how do you expect to get any better and progress?”

“Progress to what?!” Jason shouted incredulously. “Another one of your golden boys like Dick? Yeah right! Could you even imagine something like that?” 

Now Bruce knew something was wrong beyond Jason’s poor practice and lack of focus. He started to ask what, but Jason immediately cut him off by slamming the piano fall shut.

“Look, Bruce. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but I need to start thinking about my future, and as far as I can tell, all of _this_ is just a waste of my time!”

After that, the boy grabbed his backpack and ran out of the room.

********************************************************

Somehow Jason always ended up back at the same place when he felt at his lowest. Sure he could’ve gone back to his dorm to sulk, but he always felt out of place on campus and never really comfortable.

“Hey, Jay,” a familiar voice called out.

“Oh great,” Jason groaned. He made special care not to go anywhere near the bar or his old turf. He just wanted to take a walk around the city to try and clear his mind, but somehow he still managed to run into his old accomplices.

“Listen, Johnny, I’m really not in the mood to deal with-”

“No you listen, kid,” the man snarled back. “You’re old man skipped town.”

“Yeah, so,” Jason snorted while trying to stay calm. Jason knew something wasn’t right and could feel the presence of others in the shadows behind him.

“So, then there’s the question about payment for all the money he owes us,” Johnny scowled as he took a step closer.

Jason took a step back and started to eye for an escape through his peripherals.

“I have nothing to do with it.”

“No, you do,” Johnny countered. “I already told you if I can’t get what’s due from him, we’d be coming after you next.”

Jason felt his alarm rise when a few men stepped in the way of his determined route and started to close in on him.

“You think your old man borrowed all that money and didn’t spend a dime of it on you.

That roof over your head, the slop you ate, even those clothes you’re wearin’ are all courtesy of our _generous_ donations. “

Now Johnny was only a few inches away and Jason was completely surrounded.

“And let’s not forget all the dope that sent your mother six feet under,” the man laughed. “That stuff wasn’t cheap.”

“Oh yeah, I couldn’t be more _thankful_ to you guys,” Jason scoffed.

“Quit with the sass!” Johnny thundered as he tried to back hand the boy. Jason skillfully dodged the strike but was grabbed from behind by another nearby thug.

“Guh!” Jason grunted as Johnny kicked the defenseless boy in the stomach.

“Hey now Frost, don’t mess the kid up too bad. We still need him,” another voice from the shadows gleefully warned.

It was then that Jason felt his heart drop. Of course, Johnny was the guy his father always answered to, but in the end, he was just another small fish being led through dangerous waters by an even bigger shark.

In this particular case, the shark donned a twisted grin and went by the name Mr J. 

Mr. J never revealed exactly what the J in his name stood for, but because of the distinctive nature of his freakish smile, people often labeled him the Joker to which he happily adopted.

“Look Jay,” Joker hummed as he pinched the boy’s cheek. “I actually like you. You’re a lot less useless than your old man and always had a pretty good sense for this business.”

He motioned for his men to release the boy and started to straighten up the slightly paralyzed Jason’s jacket.

“So with that being said, we have a job that should prove pretty lucrative to everyone and if you help us with it, you can consider your debt a washl.”

“Wha…” Jason stumbled. It really sounded too go to be true, and whenever it did, it usually was. 

Suspiciously Jason asked. “What do you want?”

Somehow the Joker’s grin grew even wider.

“Well, I hear you have it in pretty good with that Wayne fellow these days.”

“Bruce?”

“Yes! Brucie!” Joker caroled with glee before his smile slightly faltered.

“It’s unfortunate your father’s group failed in that heist they tried to pull.”

Jason lowered his head in response as he remembered what a shameful act he once tried to commit against Bruce. 

“So many antiques worth a fortune and did you know he happens to have a custom antique Steinway?”

“Maybe I saw something like that…” Jason mumbled under his breath

“That thing is easily worth a cool half million even sold underground.”

“So,” Jason muttered back as he already saw where this was going.

Joker’s fiendish smile returned and he pulled the boy closer and patted his shoulder.

“So, how about you make sure you keep old Brucie away from the manor the next time we decide to pay his place a visit?”

Jason was still looking at his feet.

“Is that all…”

“Oh, and if you wouldn’t mind scoping out all those nasty silent alarms that caught you last time. I’m sure someone with your expertise would know where to find and disable them.”

Jason couldn’t even respond. Was this the only way he could really make it in his world? 

Who was he really kidding? To actually believe playing the piano would get him anywhere in life? Sure for now it got him a roof over his head, but after he graduated, all those luxuries would be over. This fantasy of his was only fleeting.

Then again, did he really have to stab the only person who ever gave a damn about him in the back? Still, with the debt looming over his head, Jason knew he didn’t have much of a future. Not unless he cut town like his old man but even still, someone like Joker would undoubtedly find him. 

Of course, if you can do something this simple, you can consider your family’s debt paid in full, and we’ll even give you a nice size cut for all your trouble.” 

Joker smiled at the boy with gnarled confidence. “So what do you say?”

*******************************************************************

“Jason, there you are!” 

When Bruce saw the boy shuffle into his office, he immediately set all his work down and came to meet him. Jason had been gone for several days now and Bruce was seriously worried about him. To make matters worse, the boy didn’t own a phone so Bruce had no way of contacting him.

Bruce wanted to go to the police but was worried Jason's disappearance would effect his parole terms. In the end, Bruce decided if one more day passed, he would go to them regardless of that fact. First and foremost, Jason's safety was what was important to him.

“Bruce…” Jason mumbled while avoiding eye contact with the man.

Bruce knew something was still bothering the boy just from the defeated look on his face. 

“Jason,” he asked. “Is there something you want to talk about?”

“I…” Jason started while turning his face a little further away. He then let out a long exaltation and finished.

“Maybe, but not here…”

Bruce smiled at the boy’s shyness. It wasn’t often he saw this side of the Jason, but at the same time Bruce was glad the boy was able to open up to him when he needed to. 

“Okay, then where would you like to talk?” 

For a second they met gazes, but Jason quickly darted his eyes away. “Can we…can we maybe go to your place?”

*******************************************************************

“Hey Bruce, I’m sorry I made you bring me all the way out here,” Jason apologized while ruffling the back of hair with frustration. “I just…I just didn’t really want to talk at the school…”

“I thought it was kind of strange you wanted to come all the way out here,” Bruce replied as he handed the boy a glass of water. Honestly, he felt bad for not having anything else besides coffee and tea, and Jason wasn’t fond of either. Maybe he’d invest in buying soda or juice in case something like this ever happened again.

“Well, I guess maybe I just feel a little more comfortable in a home setting,” Jason chuckled somewhat nervously. “Then again, now that I think about it, this place isn’t exactly _homely_.”

He started to look around the room, taking special care to avoid the piano in the corner. 

“I mean, you got all this old stuff that you don’t even pay attention to. Do you even care about any of it?”

“Well, if I had to be honest, not really,” Bruce sighed tiredly as he started to think about the pains of dusting the manor. “Most of the furnishings of this house have been here even longer than I have, just more of the Wayne legacy that I’ve come to _begrudgingly_ accept.”

“That’s what I thought…” Jason mumbled before his gaze finally drifted to the Steinway in the corner.

“I mean, on the day we first met, I saw all the dust on that piano, and I just knew it hadn’t been played in years…”

“Ah, yes…” Bruce answered dimly.

“Why don’t you just get rid of it so a family who would actually give her attention can appreciate her? I bet you wouldn’t even miss her if she was gone…”

“I…” Bruce’s eyes went dark. “That’s the one thing I can’t do.”

Jason who’d been gauging Bruce’s responses suddenly felt confused by the face Bruce was making. It looked like a cross between something sad and nostalgic.

Bruce let out a soft sound and stood up before making his way towards the instrument of discussion.

“This piano is very special to me.”

“R-really?” Jason stammered while still being in awe by Bruce’s tender expression.

Bruce ran his fingers over the surface. “Yes, because it belonged to my mother.”

His hand stopped. He then closed his eyes and let his mind be overwhelmed my memories he thought he tucked far and deep away.

“Sure this was first piano I ever played, and the one I was taught on when I was younger, but to me it means so much more than that.

So many good things from my past are fuzzy now, especially the older I become. However, the dearest memories that I cherish are the times I sat at this piano and played with _her_ …even if my own mind and heart continue to fade, at least those moments will always be engraved here.” Bruce brought a hand over his chest.

“Bruce…” Jason mumbled. The way the maestro looked silhouetted against the light barely reaching the corner he was at, the piano behind him and a kind smile on his face, it was a side of the man Jason had never seen but somehow looked so natural. 

“Heh,” Bruce laughed as he finally reopened his eyes and looked at the boy sheepishly. “I suppose what I’m saying is a bit uselessly sentimental.”

“No!” Jason unconsciously blurted before lowering his own head in shame. “Actually it makes a lot of sense, and it’s the first time I ever seen you look so…”

“Jason?” Bruce questioned when the boy went silent for a long time.

Jason suddenly stood to his feet and started to head towards the door. “Bruce, can we go?”

“I thought you wanted to talk?” the confused Bruce asked as he started to follow behind him.

“No, I change my mind!” Jason exclaimed while shaking his head and picking up his stride. “I just want to-”

A gentle hand at his shoulder caused the boy to freeze.

“Listen to me Jason,” Bruce hushed. “Even though you were cast a different lot in life than many of the students at the GSPA, it doesn’t mean you can’t change your future.”

Jason squeezed his eyes shut. “Bruce…” 

“Sure because of your upbringing and past, you’ve had a tougher path, and I can’t say it won’t continue to be an uphill struggle, but when it comes to music everyone is equal.”

Bruce kneeled down so he and Jason where level, but the boy still refused to look at him.

“As a wise man once said, music is formless, timeless, and knows no bounds. It’s not constrained or inhibited by a conformist interpretation.

It’s merely a person’s heart brought to life over the waves of sound, and what I see, what I hear when you play is the true heart and soul of a musician.”

Jason felt his eyes start to get heavy with fluid and closed them tighter.

“I, yeah, but that still doesn’t change the fact that the industry is controlled by people, and people aren’t like music when it comes to judging.”

“Yes, that’s true,” Bruce wearily sighed. “But that’s why you just have to change their hearts with your music.”

Jason finally looked up. “My music?”

He expected to see a joking face, but Bruce looked honest and sincere. 

“Bruce,” Jason sighed. “The things that I play, they aren’t my songs.”

“No, but when you play them, you always put your own heart into it.” 

“I do?”

“Yes,” Bruce smiled. “And I can feel it clearly when you perform. You have a soul that’s on fire and when people hear it they can’t help but be drawn in like moths.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Jason chuckled dryly. “I set everything I touch ablaze.”

“And we’d gladly burn if it meant we could experience even a moment of your passion.”

Jason’s eyes widened. “Bruce…”

He never knew the maestro felt this way about his music. The bigger part of him told him Bruce was just saying all of this to make him feel better, but the way the man was looking at him with eyes of admiration told him otherwise.

Once again, Jason found himself unable to bear such an honest expression. “You make it sound so easy, Bruce, but I wonder if someone like me can really do what you say…”

Finally Bruce stood back up and walked over to a nearby table. “Jason, have you ever heard of a composer named, Clark Kent?”

“Hell yeah I have,” Jason laughed out. “He’s all the students go on about these days. Some seriously talented composer who writes personalized music for people. His waiting list is miles long, and even the richest of those snobs can’t get his attention.”

“Yes, but he works with several scholastic music programs, one of which the GSPA is affiliated with.”

“So?”

“So there’s a competition that’s held annually,” Bruce answered as he handed the boy an entry from. “And one of the grand prizes is a song written by him for the winning student.”

“No shit?” Jason exclaimed as he skimmed over the paper.

“Jason, I really think you have a chance at winning it.”

Once again Jason was looking at Bruce with numb disbelief. “R-really?” 

Bruce’s lips lifted.

“Jason, reveal to the world your song. Even if you can’t form the words properly, let them hear your voice and experience your heart in a way they can’t ignore.”

“I…” Jason’s smile returned and was the biggest Bruce had ever seen it. “Okay, Bruce.”

**********************************************************

“No deal,” the boy declared in front of the slightly shocked group. When the boy entered the bar with such a resolved attitude, the man thought for sure he had good news. 

“If you want to rob Wayne, you’ll just have to do it yourself. I’m not going to have any part in it.”

“What a shame,” Joker sighed. “I didn’t think you were a fool like your old man.”

“I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, but at least I don’t have to rot,” Jason snapped back.

“Jason, if you leave now, there’s no turning back,” the man warned with a dangerous smile.

“Fine by me. I think seeing my back as I leave you criminals behind is perfect!” and with that final statement the boy left the bar.

“You’re just gonna let him get away with that?” Johnny asked somewhat warily.

“Of course not,” Joker chuckled.

“So you want that we take him out?”

“We could do that,” Joker nodded before grinning up at the man. “But where would the fun be in that? Right now, that kid doesn’t have a lot to lose besides his own worthless life, but he seems to be under the impression he’s going to make himself better.”

Joker's lips curled into an even more crooked shape as he looked at the door Jason exited through and snickered.

“I always find in situations like this, its best to wait it out because,” he narrowed his eyes. “Sometimes the best laid plans come to those who wait.” 

“You’re a cold man, Mr. J,” Johnny laughed while holding back a shudder. Though his boss looked thrilled something about the cruel look in his eyes made his skin crawl.

To Be Continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought this song appropriately reflected Jason especially at this part of the flashback. Also it fits his style as a musician and his favorite composer is Beethoven.
> 
> Ludwig Von Beethoven's _Sonata Op 57 "Appassionata" Mov III:_  
>  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xz7usUEPWsc
> 
> Got carried away so there will be one last chapter for this flashback arc. It was really long so I decided to break it into two. Luckily it's almost done so I'll update it very soon. I warn you though the last chapter will be kind of heavy and because of that fact I'm having trouble finishing it...
> 
> Thank you again for your support.


	24. Quasi Una Fantasia part 3 Les Adieux (Farewell)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, here is the last chapter in the Bruce and Jason flashback arc. Fair warning, there is a bit of violence...

“Bruce, will you do it?” the woman asked a second time.

Bruce was still at a loss, but somehow managed a reply.

“Chancellor, you know I don’t perform anymore.”

“But the school hasn’t won nationals since you last attended.”

Bruce went silent again but seemed slightly more contemplative than before. She knew just one more push would move him in the right direction.

“It’s tradition for the past title holder from our school to play with the current one. Also, isn’t he one of your most promising students? I’m sure this will help boost his career considering all the scouts who would attend. Besides don’t you want to play with him?”

*************************************************************

“Congratulations Jason.”

“Thanks…” the boy mumbled back to the teacher he didn’t know.

“Wow, Jason,” a girl standing with a group of her friends cheered. “We always knew you were special!”

Jason slightly blushed and walked a little faster.

“Great job, Jason,” Another teacher passing by congratulated.

“Heh, well, you know. It is what it is,” Jason smirked back as he started to feel less awkward and a little more confident.

It wasn’t until he almost made it to the practice room that things started to get complicated.

“Jason, you’re going to accompany me right?” the girl whined while tugging his sleeve.

“No he’s going to be my accompanist!” Another girl shouted while grabbing his arm and pulling him away from her.

“No, Jason, pick me!”

Honestly this wasn’t the first Jason had been propositioned to accompany for some more than eager girls, but Bruce was always strict about who he allowed him to play with and always warned him about the dangers of getting too involved with any one violinists. Almost to the point that Jason swore Bruce had some kind of grudge against them.

“Hey ladies, no need to fight,” Jason tried to smooth over. “I’m sure I can accompany all of you.”

The cute pouty look on all the girls’ faces turned to disapproving frowns. 

“Oh, so that’s how it will be?”

“That’s the kind of guy you are?”

“Um…” Jason stumbled as he wondered why they were all suddenly so upset. He then wished to whatever being above for some kind of distraction before his prayers were answered.

“Enjoying yourself?” Bruce asked as he stood behind the boy with his arms crossed

“Maestro!” Jason shouted a little too eagerly.

The man was on his way to meet Jason for practice when he caught the scene in the hall. After watching Jason sweat it out a bit, he finally decided to step in.

“You’ve been blazing quite a trail this year, especially as of late,” Bruce casually commented when they finally made it to the privacy of his office.

“Well, you know…” Jason shrugged while trying to act cool.

Three years had passed since the day they first met, and Jason’s improvement had been unprecedented, so much so the boy had won several well-known titles throughout his short career but none compared to his most recent achievement. 

Even Bruce’s previous prodigy hadn’t achieved this accomplishment. Then again, the charm in Dick’s style wasn’t its technicality, and he was much more suited for playing at concerts than competitions. 

In a lot of ways, Jason’s abilities were more similar to the maestro’s at least from what he was told, but Bruce assured Jason his style had a lot more passion behind it. Of course, Jason never heard Bruce play outside of class, though he would never forget the first time he heard the maestro play. A recording he still kept hidden away in his room. 

“In any case, congratulations on winning nationals,” Bruce praised. “No one from America has won in over fifteen years.”

Bruce turned and looked at the boy inquisitively. “Do you know who the last winner was though?”

“Who?” Jason asked.

“Me.”

Jason’s eyes widened, but before he could say anything, Bruce turned his back to him and started to fiddle with something at his desk.

“Jason, the school wants the two of us to perform together at this year’s music festival.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” Bruce nodded. “And I’ve decided to accept.”

“WHAT! REALLY?!” the boy exploded. “You’re gonna play with me!”

All of Jason’s typical posturing immediately slipped along with his apathetic mask and once again Bruce saw the teen’s pure boyish smile.

“I…yes,” he answered back while clearing his throat. It was hard for even Bruce to act indifferent now. 

“It’s actually a tradition, but more importantly…” he gave Jason a look of admiration. “A long time ago I told you that your song has the ability to move people, and well…I’m no exception either...”

“Maestro…” Jason mumbled as he felt his chest ache.

“Jason…” Bruce smiled back, “Thank you…”

**********************************************************************

Bruce let out a tired sigh as he started to put away his notes.

Jason was completely unfocused that day and was obviously too excited to think about anything else.

Maybe Bruce should’ve told Jason the news after practice. Then again, Bruce was also a bit anxious to tell him, though he would never admit it out loud.

To think after all these years, he would finally step on the stage again. Was this really something he could do?

Honestly, after spending so many years teaching, Bruce really did feel like his heart was moving again. 

It all started with Dick, the kid who kept him from falling completely into his own darkness back when he thought he lost hope. The way the young pianist’s eyes would light up with so much awe and adoration always made Bruce nostalgic. Bruce really missed that kind of feeling, and though he could vaguely remember what it felt like to be so enthralled by the music while watching his students, it wasn’t the same as the experience.

Still, after all these years, finding another student with just as much passion and talent if not more so than Dick, and then given this opportunity to play again. Maybe things like fate really did exist in this dark bleak world.

Bruce’s cellphone rang just as he started to lock up. He didn’t recognize the number but was familiar with the area code. Normally he screened calls from numbers he didn’t know, but this time he felt compelled to answer, especially considering the area code.

“Hello, this is, Bruce.”

The maestro’s eyes widened.

“Damian?”

***********************************************************************

Jason knew his session that day didn’t go very well. Even though he wanted to practice harder than ever before, he was too excited to concentrate. 

Not only was he finally getting recognition at the school, even despite his status and reputation, but now he was going to play with Bruce. Sure being invited to play at the Gotham music festival was an honor in itself, but being on the same stage as Bruce meant so much more to him.

Though he’d never admit out loud, Bruce was someone very special to Jason. He was the one person who looked at Jason and saw so much more than a worthless street thug. Despite everything, despite the rough exterior, he gave the boy a chance to do something better with his life, and saw the good Jason didn't even know was in himself.

Also, the moment Jason heard Bruce play Beethoven's sonata, he’d been captivated. Of course, listening to the recording now, he knew it’d merely been a cut and dry demonstration for the purposes of making the song easy to dissect and follow, but after listening to it for more times than he could count, Jason knew there was more to the maestro’s abilities than he let on. There was so much discipline in the way he performed the piece but at the same time there was restraint as well.

Playing a song that well, but having the capacity to hold back, there was no doubt Bruce’s abilities were out of this world, and ever since he realized this, Jason had done nothing but chase after the maestro’s heels. 

He had to get better so he could come even close to comparing to Bruce.

At first, Jason’s motivation had been fueled by a drive to defeat the maestro for his first humiliation, but now he wanted nothing more than to impress Bruce and maybe one day be considered someone worthy to play beside him.

Now that day had finally come. It’d been a hard journey with many finger blistering days, and neck and back cramping nights, but he never once regretted a moment of that pain. It only made him stronger and more importantly brought him even closer to Bruce.

Though the maestro feigned cold indifference, Jason knew how much the man really cared. The fact he would spend countless hours even past the overtime Jason put in working on lessons for his students, that he never missed any of their concerts and competitions, that he was involved in so many of the music programs at the school, that his door was always open and he never turned down a request for extra help or practice…

Even though his never spoke sweetly, Bruce was always there to listen and gave Jason the advice _needed_ rather than what he _wanted_ to hear, but at the same time he was always encouraging and ready to put in just as much effort as he expected out of Jason.

There had never been anyone in Jason’s life like Bruce, not even his own worthless dad, and now Jason would finally have a chance to show to Bruce everything he really meant to him.

_“…reveal to the world your song…_

_…let them hear your voice and experience your heart in a way they can’t ignore.”_

Those words had become Jason’s mantra and what he thought about every time he set foot on stage, the fuel behind his passion. 

Before, no one gave a damn about what a nobody like Jason Todd felt or had to say, but when he got on that stage the world couldn’t help but turn and listen. 

Through the piano Jason was finally able to express himself freely and without reservation, but now, more importantly, he would finally get a chance to hear and experience Bruce’s voice as well, and just thinking about what someone who played like the maestro had to say, how could he possibly concentrate on something as menial as practice?

 _‘I’ll have to make up my crappy performance to Bruce, next time,’_ Jason laughed to himself.

“Hey, Jay, been awhile.”

The boy was more than startled when he heard the familiar voice. 

He hadn’t even gone very far into town that day. He’d just walked to the nearest convenience store to pick up provisions for the weekend. There was no reason for Johnny to come this far out of the city unless he was intentionally looking for the boy.

Immediately Jason was on the defense. “What do you want?”

“You never paid your debt,” the man replied coolly.

Jason started to back away. “That debt has nothing to do with me. Go ask my old man about it.”

“Oh, we did,” Johnny chuckled.

Jason stopped. “R-really? You found my dad?”

The man’s smile lifted when he heard the hopefulness in Jason’s voice. Jason also realized what he did and quickly covered up his expression with a scowl. 

“Yeah, but the amount he offered up, it wasn’t enough considering all the interests racked up.”

“Then collect your interest from him.”

Johnny started to laugh again, but something about it was a little darker. “Oh, I’m afraid your dad is no longer in a position to ever do such a thing.”

“What…what did you do to him?” Jason stammered, though he deep down he already know the answer.

“There’s a price to pay for skipping out on your debts.”

“Hey! LET GO OF ME!” Jason shouted when a man twice his size suddenly came up behind him and tried to grab him. The boy took several swings at the man, but in no time two more men joined his attacker and wrestled Jason to the ground.

“You think you’re better than all of us just because you have a little bit of talent,” Johnny sneered as he crouched down so he and Jason were level.

“LET ME GO!” Jason demanded before his face was pushed into the gravel.

“Someone takes a little notice and feels sorry for a punk, and you let it go straight to your big mouth.”

“Damn it…” Jason cursed when he realized there was nothing he could do. The man sitting on him had him completely pinned in place and the others were keeping his legs and arms restrained.

Johnny snatched up Jason’s right wrist.

“You flew to close to the sun, and now it’s time we bring you back down to where you belong.”

“STOP!”

Johnny started to spread Jason’s fingers apart.

“These hands used to only be good for stealing, but that never made you more special than the rest of the trash, but now I see your name in the papers. Some kind of musical boy wonder they say, but how well can you play if…”

He started to pull back on Jason’s middle finger.

“AHHH!” the boy wailed as he drowned out the sickening sound of bones snapping with the shouts of his pain.

“Opps,” Johnny snickered. “Guess that finger won’t be so useful for a while.”

“ _Awhile_ ,” another exuberant voice sang from the shadows. “Oh, no, the debt he accrued has expounded a much longer time period than that.” 

Jason’s felt his stomach twist when he saw a lanky figure followed by a twisted grin appear.

In his hand, the man held a crowbar he was wistfully twirling like a cane. “Let’s make this situation a little more permanent like we did to his old man.”

“Don’t worry though, Jaybird, we won’t give you the same treatment as him,” Johnny snickered as he moved away so Joker could stand in his place. “Were just collectin' interests for your father’s debt and that big mouth of yours. You think folks can get away with talking to the boss like you?”

“Go to hell you bastards!” Jason spat back.

Joker laughed out with even more glee at Jason’s enthusiasm.

“Haha, of course, of course, all in good time!” he caroled before striking the ground right near Jason’s face and digging the crowbar into the ground. He then leaned in close so the last thing Jason could see was his distorted yellow grin.

“But first we'll warm up your spot so you have plenty of time to think about what you _almost_ had.”

************************************************************************

Bruce immediately rushed to the hospital when he heard the news from the school. They’d found the boy bloody and beaten behind a nearby convenience store. No one knew how to contact his family, but because he was wearing a uniform from the school, it was the first place they reached out to.

Bruce was on his way to the airport at the time, luckily the chancellor contacted him in hopes that Bruce knew how to get a hold of Jason’s parents. Of course he didn’t, but that didn’t stop him from instantly turning the taxi around and heading straight to the ER.

“He has several fractures in his arms and legs and quite a few bruised and cracked ribs. Also there is head trauma from a blunt force object…”

Bruce was without words when he heard the doctor speak. There was no way the things the man was telling him were real. Any moment now he would wake from this horrible nightmare.

The doctor could tell Bruce was caught up in his dismay and tried to think of something hopeful to say to help calm his fears. “Luckily he was brought to us in time before his condition became life threatening. All of his wounds should heal with time, but…” the doctor paused and Bruce knew from his pale face and evasive side glances it wasn’t good.

“The injury to his right hand…the nerve damage is irreparable due to the nature of the cuts and burns, almost as if they knew exactly which nerves to damage…”

“What!?” Bruce exclaimed.

“He may regain use of the hand again, but it won’t even function at half its normal capacity…”

“Can I see him?” Bruce asked. He couldn’t listen to any more of this. He just needed to see Jason with his own two eyes and confirm he was safe. Right now, that’s all that really mattered to Bruce.

“Are you his father?” The nurse asked.

“No…” Bruce answered with obvious regret. If only he had been, then maybe he could’ve prevented something like this from happening. 

“Right now we prefer only family-”

“Please, he doesn’t have anyone else!” Bruce fervently pleaded. “Even if he isn’t my son, to me he is…” Bruce’s voice got lost on a sob, and he lowered his head.

The nurse looked at the doctor before they both nodded in agreement.

“It’s fine,” she soothed as she gently patted Bruce’s back. “Go ahead and see him.”

**********************************************************************************

The room was dark and quiet save for the beeps from various equipment surrounding his bed.

“Jason…” Bruce murmured.

With so many daunting machines and tubes coming out of him, the boy looked even smaller and frailer than Bruce could ever remember.

When Jason didn’t answer, Bruce stepped closer to his bed. The boy had his face turned towards the window and his eyes were closed. More than likely he was sleeping, but the expression on his slumbering face was anything but peaceful.

Bruce swallowed at the knot in his throat and continued to examine the boy. Jason’s head was bandaged and both his legs were in cast, but the thing that tore at Bruce’s heart the most was the bandaged hand rested over Jason's chest.

Bruce nearly broke down when he remembered the doctor’s words.

_‘…the nerve damage is irreparable…’_

“Jason,” Bruce chocked. “I’m so sorry… I won’t ever forgive the people who-”

Finally the boy spoke.

“I can’t feel my hand anymore.”

His voice was quiet, and Bruce almost didn’t hear it. However, when he did, he wished he hadn’t.

“Jason.”

Jason let out a long exaltation, and Bruce could hear the pain and effort it took for him to breathe. No doubt the injuries to his ribs also affected his lungs.

“I,” Jason lifted his hand up. “It still moves a little, but I can’t…” he let out a sharp gasp when he tried to wiggle a finger. “I can’t _feel_ it anymore.”

“Jay…”

“Bruce, it’s not going to get better, is it.”

Bruce couldn’t answer, but knew it wasn’t really a question. Jason was a sharp kid, and it never took him long to figure things out.

Jason cupped his other hand over his face. “Bruce, why did this happen? Without my hand I won’t be able to play anymore.”

“Jason…” Bruce whirred. He wanted nothing more than to comfort the boy, but really wasn’t sure what to say. 

“This isn’t fair,” Jason sobbed as he broke down and finally cried. “I really thought I could be more than just Jason Todd, but now…”

His voice got lost in his tears.

After his sniffles died down, he finished his thought, but his voice was deathly low and cold.

“Before we met, I had nothing. There wasn’t anything in my life to care about.

I didn’t even understand what it meant to _really_ play until you taught me, but…” he clasped the front part of his gown tightly and practically clawed into his own chest. “Even though I can’t feel my hand…my chest hurts. It hurt’s so bad I can’t even breathe…”

“Jason,” Bruce whispered when he saw a new stream of tears flood the boy’s eyes.

“I just wish I never…I would have been better off if they killed me!”

“Jason, no-” Bruce cried as he finally let loose the last of his restraints and attempted to embrace the boy.

“Bruce, just leave me alone!” Jason warned when he saw his approach.

“Jason-”

“JUST GO!” Jason thundered.

Bruce immediately froze before the door suddenly flew open. The nurse had a look of panic in her eyes. No doubt she mistook Jason’s shouts as room for alarm. She then looked at the horrified Bruce and the sobbing Jason with confusion.

“I…” Jason’s voice was shaking but his volume and energy had dropped dramatically. He turned his face back towards the window so no one could see his face and sighed. “I just want to be alone right now…please...”

Bruce didn’t want to leave, but at the same time he didn’t know what he could do if he stayed. Also the nurse heard Jason’s requests and was looking at Bruce with warning.

“Mr. Wayne…”

Bruce nodded his understanding before turning his gaze back to Jason.

“Jason…” He brought a hand out as though he was about to touch him before retracting it and turning around. “I’m sorry. I should’ve never…”

He rushed out of the room with tears in his eyes.“I’m so sorry…”

To be continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm truly sorry for this chapter, but at the same time it was something I thought was worth sharing. Thank you to those who took the time to read even though it got away from the main story. I just really felt compelled to share this flashback because I thought it helped a lot in understanding Bruce more and also Jason's story deserved to be told...
> 
> Had to go with one of Beethoven's more sad pieces this time around.  
>  _Sonata No. 26 in E Flat Major, Op. 81a mov II "Les Adieux"_  
>  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p9rRbz-LdSM
> 
> Also once again this song, because it's kind of Jason's theme for the whole flashback, and I think it represented his struggle from beginning to end pretty well:  
>  _Quasi Una Fantasia Op. 27 No. 2 III - Presto - Agitato_  
>  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zucBfXpCA6s


	25. Just the Two of Us

A long moment of stunned silence passed before Clark eventually spoke. “I can’t believe something so cruel happened to Jason…” 

Dick nodded in agreement. 

Clark turned his cloudy eyes away from his downcast companion and muffled into his hand.

“To think after everything he accomplished, and the bright future he was headed towards…” Clark’s throat tightened. “Only to have it taken all away from him…” 

After that, Clark really couldn’t speak. He was too caught up in his own memories of a young headstrong musician with a mouth as quick as his hands, but a passion so fiery even Clark was lit by his presence. 

The short time they got to know each other had truly been a pleasure, and despite being a little standoffish, Jason was earnest and sincere and had abilities beyond many that Clark had written for before. 

Jason’s piece ended up being one of the most technically difficult songs Clark ever composed, but it was one of his greatest joys to create. The song truly challenged Clark’s prowess but also enthralled the composer with its many layers of depth and complexity.

Suddenly Clark was pulled from his thoughts as Dick finally regained composure to finish his story.

“Bruce was furious and wouldn’t rest until he found the ones responsible for Jason’s injury.

Thanks to his connection with Babs whose father is the commissioner and also a rather sizable donation towards funding a task force, the police managed to uncover the crime group involved, and in the process, Bruce learned about the debt Jason’s father racked up.” 

Dick let out a humorless laugh.

“I still remember how upset Bruce was when heard the news…”

_“To think they would ruin a child’s future over something like this!” Bruce spat while slamming his fist on the table. “Taking away something so priceless to him over a mere financial affair! If only Jason had come to me. I would have gladly paid… ” Bruce stopped and shook his head. “No, that doesn’t even matter now. I will never forgive them for what they did!”_

Dick’s voice lowered and his expression fell uneasy.

“Bruce ended up using a lot of his influence to make sure the ones involved were punished to the fullest extent. Still, regardless of the overall resolution, it still couldn’t undo the damage that was already done, and even though Bruce turned to many specialists and offered to pay any cost, the answer was always the same. Jason would never recover full use of his right hand again.” 

Dick’s eyes began to gloss over and Clark could see the pain and regret reflecting back. As a composer, Clark could somewhat sympathize, but to a musician like Dick this was an unimaginable fate.

“And Jason was always pretty smart… He knew his career as a pianist was over.

Bruce assured Jason he would do everything he could to help, but Jason had already accepted his cruel reality, and then…”

Dick grimaced before sifting his fingers listlessly through his own hair and sighing. “Jason shut down completely.

He just stopped talking and refused any visitors. Then to make matters worse, three days before he was supposed to be admitted out of the hospital, he disappeared without a word.

Since then, none of us have seen or heard from him again.”

“What?! Jason has been missing all this time?”

Dick nodded at Clark’s staggered expression. 

“So all this time, Bruce has…”

“Yes,” Dick answered while shaking his head. “He just continues to live with the unresolved guilt over the incident.”

“But he wasn’t’ responsible for Jason’s injury.”

“No, but he believes if he hadn’t gotten so involved in Jason’s life, Jason would’ve never ended up in such a state of loss. He even told me…”

_“The day I first met Jason, I saw so much potential. I just knew he would be the one to outshine even me._

_That’s why I tried so hard to guide his path. I really thought he could accomplish all the things I never could. I really strived to give him the chance I never had, and in doing so he truly grew to love music in a way he never would’ve had I not interfered…”_

_The corner of Bruce’s mouth lifted to a vacant smile and he laughed._

_“I wish...” his face twisted. Then without warning he completely broke down and cried. “I should’ve never gotten involved in his life, and now because of me he’s lost something he can’t get back. Just like me, his heart has been broken…”_

_Bruce’s last words were strangled by a few sobs before he shouted out angrily._

_“Truly, I hate the piano! Every time I think I can allow it back into my life, it only leads to tragedy…”_

Clark gritted when he heard Dick’s words. He could just imagine Bruce’s trembling voice and pained expression. 

“Afterwards, Bruce became even more detached and started to cut any personal ties to all his students. 

I admit, Bruce was always strict, but after what happened to Jason, he became cold and abrasive towards everyone.

Dick let out a frustrated sound. “I mean, I get why he does it. I know he’s just trying to push his students into distancing themselves from him, but at the same time…”

Dick squeezed his eyes shut.

“I was Bruce’s first student, even back before he started instructing. I know I was a nuisance to him, but for whatever reason he gave me a chance, and the time we spent together, he really opened himself up to me and gave me so much I can never repay.

Sure when he plays the piano he’s calculative, but when he taught…” Dick reopened his lids revealing a soft tender expression. “I think those are the times I really saw him smile, but now…”

His azures darkened to a hazy look of pain.

“Sometimes I look at Bruce and it feels like he isn’t even alive, that he’s just going through the motions…”

Dick finally directed his gaze back to Clark.

“Clark, deep down underneath all that heartache, there is so much more to Bruce. I know you’ve seen it too, right?”

Clark nodded back at Dick’s questioning eyes.

“Bruce doesn’t want to deal with any of it, though. He’s afraid of hurting and being hurt back. So instead he just closes off his heart, but really I’m not sure how much longer he can go on like this. 

I tried to help him, but he just pushed me further away, and now I’m afraid if I try any harder, I’ll lose him completely, but at the same time…”

Dick couldn’t finish and closed his eyes again.

“Bruce deserves better,” Clark answered as he finished Dick’s thought.

“Clark…” Dick mumbled when he saw the man’s look of determination.

****************************************************

“What are you doing?” 

“Eh?” John looked up from the piano he was playing and faced the cross armed Damian.

His disapproving frown tightened. “Do you not have a concert to prepare for?”

“Oh, yeah…” Jon smiled with a somewhat sheepish grin. “But it got boring practicing the same songs over and over, so I thought I’d take a little break.”

The flush about Jon’s cheeks deepened. Unfortunately he’d been caught by the last person he wanted. 

Right before Damian arrived Jon had been playing the theme song from his favorite TV show _Hero Sons_.

Damian shook his head and sighed. “You finally get to be lead pianist for your division’s next concert, and rather than take your position seriously, you decide to dawdle away.”

“I’m not _dawdling_ ,” Jon defended quickly. “You know, sometimes people do like playing instruments just for fun. Do you even know how to do that with your violin?”

Damian’s frown was traded for a superior smirk “I told you already, I have fun when I win.”

“Is that so…” Jon muttered under his breath before his eyes suddenly lit back up with an idea. “Okay, well then how about you try and beat me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Damian snorted. “What fun would there be in defeating someone like you?”

“Well, you said you have fun winning,” Jon answered while simultaneously thumbing at his phone.

Damian stood a little taller and tried to catch a peek at what he was typing before masking his curiosity with another haughty response. “Yes, but you are far from a challenge to me.”

Jon’s mouth lifted. Not quite the response Damian was expecting.

Finally he stopped fiddling with his phone and looked back at Damian. “You seem so sure of yourself, but I bet if we played something on my terms, I could beat you easy.”

Damian glared at Jon’s confident expression. “You want to bet?”

“I do,” Jon smiled.

Damian wasn’t sure he liked Jon’s self-assured smirk but at the same time he was never one to back down from a challenge.

“And what exactly are your terms?” he finally asked once he decided to take the bait.

Jon’s face turned even more satisfied. “How about for once we don’t play something composed over a hundred years ago?”

“Oh, so you want to play some over simplified pop culture dreck?” Damian scoffed. 

“Well, yeah,” Jon nodded. “It wouldn’t be very fair to play something complicated if you’ve never heard the song before, and I really get the impression you don’t listen to much modern stuff.”

Damian didn’t answer but Jon could tell from his flat shrug he was still interested.

“So your terms are the fact that you have the advantage of knowing the song?” Damian inquired.

“No, my terms are that we improvise.”

“Improvise?” Damian echoed with more intrigue than he intended.

“Yeah, have you ever improvised before?”

Damian’s nose wrinkled with offense. “Of course I have. It’s common practice.”

“So you only improvise for practice?”

“What other purpose does it serve?” 

“Heh,” Jon chuckled as he propped his cell on a nearby stand. “This is going to be easier than I thought.”

Damian felt his irritation rise at Jon’s comment. 

“Okay, so here’s how the game goes,” Jon explained as he hit play on his phone. “First song that comes on the radio, you and I will listen to it, and after that, whoever performs it the best wins,” he paused and looked apprehensive for a moment before adjusting something on the screen.

“I guess there is a chance I heard the song, so I will pick an oldies station so even if I have it won’t be something I recognize very well.”

“I see…” Damian mumbled more to himself before redirecting his focus back on Jon. “So when I win, what do I get?”

Jon looked a bit baffled at Damian’s question. Honestly, he really wasn’t thinking of their wager as anything more than a game. 

“I don’t know. What do you want?” He asked while swallowing hard on the knot that suddenly formed in his throat.

“Hmm,” Damian hummed with a sly curl about his lips. “I will decide on that later.”

Jon’s face turned a little less colored as he thought about Damian’s expression.

“What’s wrong, Jon, _worried_?” 

Jon met his opponent’s challenging eyes with his own determined gaze. “No because that would mean I think I might lose.”

He turned back to his phone and hit play. “Alright, well this is a station my dad likes, so…”

The sweet chime of a keyboard immediately sounded from the tiny speakers of his cell and the intro to _Just the Two of Us_ started to play. 

Jon vaguely recognized the song and had a faint memory of his dad singing it to him when he was much younger. Just thinking about the moment made the inside of his chest warm.

He looked back towards Damian to gauge his reaction. Of the course the boy looked completely serious with pensive lines forming all over his face. No doubt he was digesting the song, taking it apart, and putting it back together into something his nimble hands could play.

Just as he suspected, Damian was completely missing the point. Jon was going to have to work hard if he ever wanted to get Damian to understand.

Finally the last note drifted off.

Jon turned off the music just as the announcer started to lead into the next song and then looked back at Damian. “You think you got it?”

Damian’s unimpressed frown answered before he spoke. “The beat is nothing special. I’ve already easily figured it out.”

He bent down and started to pull out his violin from its case. “So how exactly do we grade our performances without any impartiality?”

“Just play Damian, and I think if we’re honest with ourselves, we’ll both know who the winner is.”

“Hmph, fine,” Damian ticked. 

Jon had a peculiar smile on his face. Damian didn’t like it. Did he really honestly believe he could beat Damian at such a trivial game? He was going to have fun wiping away that gratified expression.

Damian tuned his strings a little but knew he didn’t really need to warm up much more than that.

Jon patiently waited and when Damian readied his instrument, Jon started to play.

Damian let out a sound of irritation. Was this how the competition was supposed to go? He originally expected they would take turns playing, but Jon actually had the gall to challenge him directly.

Jon began playing the intro but when it came time for the melody to join in he immediately took command over that part as well and played before Damian even had time to think about jumping in.

_‘NO WAY!’_

Damian started to play right along with him. There was no way he was going to let Jon outshine his performance. 

The first chorus they were neck and neck, not single beat or note missed, each instrument’s voice singing side by side, no one string or chord better than the other.

It wasn’t a difficult song. Just like all the typical pop culture garbage Damian usually despised. Mediocre composition, simplistic time and key, was this really what today’s modern music had been lowered to.

His eyes suddenly widened. Something wasn’t right.

At the beginning they were in perfect harmony with each other, but now Damian felt like his timing was off.

_‘No, that’s impossible. I’m playing it perfectly. It’s exactly like I just heard it…’_

He tilted his head slightly in Jon’s direction.

_‘I’m not the one out of step, the one who is-’_

Damian stopped on his thought when he met Jon’s eyes.

There was something electric flashing within the depths of those large bright sapphires and the curvature of Jon’s lips were in a shape wholly unfamiliar to the violinist.

Damian’s hand trembled a little, and he felt his chest tighten when he realized what was going on.

Jon was still playing the same song, but at the same time he wasn’t. All the right notes were there, and his timing was perfect, but there was something extra between the spaces where nothing should be.

_‘No…’_

This wasn’t how the original song had been performed. It shouldn’t be right at all. Jon was playing something different.

If anything Jon should be the one in the complete wrong for veering so suddenly off course, so then why? Why did Damian feel like he was being left behind?

Damian’s jaw clenched tight, his teeth slightly barring back at the boy grinning at him. It made the position of his violin against his chin a little uncomfortable, but not nearly as painful of the sensation washing over him and making his stomach flip.

It was the one feeling Damian hated the most. Something he hadn’t experience in a long time, at least not since he moved to Gotham, and especially not after his grandfather passed.

_‘Am I….am I actually losing?’_

Damian squeezed his eyes shut and suddenly he could no longer hear the sound of his own violin. The only thing filling his ears and heart now were the sounds of Jon’s piano. 

Effortlessly, miraculously, strikingly the sound of strings and hammers dancing together in a mix of pure and harmonic accord took over every part of that stage.

Damian’s chest was on fire and he felt his face go flush with frustration. He was being overwhelmed. 

_‘No! I can’t let this happen. I can’t be beaten. I’m not allowed to lose. I…’_

The harder he tried the further he felt himself fall behind.

What was he doing wrong? Was he not playing the song exactly as he heard it? Wasn’t that all he needed to do to win? Wait for Jon to slip up and outperform him with his clearly superior skill.

Damian stole another glance in Jon’s direction. Jon had his eyes closed and a small content smile on his face.

_‘Why does he look so calm and at ease? He isn’t even trying but...’_

The heat and sting was moving to Damian’s eyes and threatening to spill.

_‘What does he have that I don’t?’_

Damian shook his head.

_‘NO!’_

Jon gasped.

Finally everything was falling into place, and his plan was coming to fruition.

The previous staunch and frigid air around Damian was lifting and the atmosphere completely transformed.

Jon had heard Damian play a million times now. Sure at his concerts he moved his audience, but it still didn’t feel right. It was almost more like a puppeteer maneuvering the strings of his listeners but never truly moving their hearts without manipulating them. 

Of course his skill during his competitions was unrivaled, and Jon was amazed with how talented and skilled his senior played. Then again, despite how natural and miraculous Damian’s abilities were, Jon still felt like something was off.

Only those times in clearing at the school did Damian’s song actually feel pure and natural, but at the same time, Jon still felt like there was more to Damian’s heart. Even though so often he was stern and intimidating, Jon had already seen so many glimpses and even experienced firsthand Damian’s earnest sincerity.

Why did he rescue Robin? Why did he help Jon all those times when he had nothing to gain? Why did he always make such a longing painful face when he spoke about or heard someone mention his father? Why did he hide away in that clearing and play alone? Jon admired all of Damian’s skill and talent, but what he really wanted more than anything was to hear him _really_ play, and finally, after all this time, Jon’s wish was coming true.

The way he was standing, the way his bow was flying, his fingers moving, even Damian’s very breaths had changed. 

Usually Damian had such firm look on his face when he performed, like he wanted nothing more than to finish the deed and move on to his next conquest. That expression always hurt Jon’s heart knowing Damian wasn’t enjoying himself, but now something was different. 

Even though the lines of concentration were still there, Damian’s features had dramatically softened and he looked so liberated and free.

“Damian…” Jon mumbled but he knew the other boy couldn’t hear him. He was in another place, somewhere he’d never been before, but always belonged.

Jon’s smile widened, and he immediately stopped playing the melody and surrendered to accompanying Damian as his harmony instead. 

Now wasn’t the time to be fighting. Why clash against such a moving force when he could simply move along with it and become a part of it to?

When the final note played, the world came back into focus.

Damian was out of breath, and his head and chest felt light. What just happened?

“Wow, Damian…” Jon breathlessly exhaled. “I’ve never heard you play like that before.”

Damian couldn’t respond. His thoughts and voice were numb as he watched Jon look timidly down towards his own feet. Sure he had a more fun than he could remember playing along with Damian, but that still didn’t change the obvious facts.

“I guess…I guess I lost…” Jon mumbled. He then remembered the terms of their agreement and gulped. “So what do you want for winning?”

Finally Damian’s mind began to form words. “I…” 

He couldn’t say them out loud. 

Jon blinked with confusion when Damian suddenly shoved his violin back into its case.

“I have to, I need to go.”

“Damian?”

“I have practice soon,” the boy mumbled before he started to make a quick exit.

Damian didn’t even think about looking back to see Jon’s baffled expression. Instead he just strode out of the hall and reflected on Jon’s earlier words.

_‘…if we’re honest with ourselves, we’ll know who won.’_

The young violinist tightened his grip around the straps of his case and gritted.

_‘I may have out played him, but I definitely did not win…’_

*****************************************************************

The sweat poured down his body and rolled off his face soaking the sheets with the labors of his body.

“HAH! MMM, _AH_!” he moaned loudly, no longer paying any heed to Clark’s warning about the thin walls of his apartment. At this point, he could give a damn about the neighbors. Especially considering the way Clark was mercilessly rocking into his body. 

The man had a hand wrapped firmly around Bruce’s cock and with each plunge into Bruce’s tight entrance he pumped his hand just a fraction of a second behind making every thrusts feel like one prolonged and agonizing grind. 

Bruce had no idea where the man learned this technique, but he knew being able to keep up such a well-timed action required more effort than simply driving until climax. Then again, this was how it always was with this man. Clark paying so much extra care and attention. He was nothing like the others. Rather than just using and abusing, he treated Bruce’s body like a cherished item. 

Bruce felt his chest tremble and pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind. Now really wasn’t the time for such fleeting consideration. The only thing he needed and wanted to focus on right now were the light kisses being pressed against his body and the sway of their desire moving together in blissful consummation. 

Then again, the sweet nothings currently being whispered into his ears would not allow the maestro forget how beloved his body was to former writer. No longer able to take the shaking in his heart, Bruce kissed the words away from Clark’s lips before taking the final plunge and crying out his release.

*****************************************************************

Bruce gazed down at the slumbering Clark and smiled.

 _‘Such a heavy unguarded sleeper,’_ Bruce chuckled as flicked the loose curl that always seemed to fall perfectly out of place. 

Unlike his lover, Bruce was a restless dreamer and often woke up in the middle of the night. At least on the mornings when they shared a bed he got to admire the man’s handsome resting face. Did Clark even understand how attractive he was behind those goofy glasses? Best Bruce keep that knowledge and this man all to himself.

Clark stirred a little and then his peaceful expression started to tighten, and he mumbled.

Bruce saw the tears gathering in the corner of Clark’s eyes. He’d seen this look before.

“Lo…is…”

Bruce’s lips pierced together into a thin line and his eyes darkened. Honestly, this wasn’t the first time he heard that woman’s name whispered in the night. It was irrational for him to feel jealous. Of course such a traumatic event would haunt anyone’s dreams, and yet…

With a heavy sigh, Bruce turned his back to Clark and promptly left the bed.

*******************************************************

Bruce looked slightly uncomfortable when he opened the door to his office and saw Clark standing in the entrance.

“Hey, Bruce,” Clark smiled.

“Clark…”

Clark could sense the maestro’s uneasiness. “Is something wrong?”

“Why would you say that?” Bruce shrugged as he motioned for Clark to enter and sat back at his desk.

“Well, you just sort of left the other morning before I woke up, and I haven’t heard from you since.”

“I was busy and forgot I had work that needed my immediate attention,” Bruce replied while sifting some nearby papers. 

“Oh, alright…” the not so convinced Clark trailed. Sure Bruce was never the most inviting person, but today he seemed a little more aloof.

Clark shook his head. Maybe he was just imagining the edgy atmosphere.

“Did you want to grab some lunch? My treat.”

“I told you already, Clark. I’m busy right now,” Bruce suddenly snapped.

A tense silence followed with Clark staring at Bruce and the maestro making every attempt to avoid his gaze. 

So it definitely wasn’t his imagination.

Clark frowned. “Bruce, are you sure you aren’t upset about something?”

“Even if I was, it really wouldn’t matter,” Bruce answered as he stood up and started to walk away.

Clark grabbed his sleeve and tugged it a little so Bruce would finally meet his eyes. “It matters to me, especially if I can do anything to help.”

Clark had a clear look of sincerity on his face. For a moment Bruce faltered, but when he saw the ring on the man's finger he exhaled sharply and yanked his hand free. “That’s just it, Clark, you can’t help yourself sometimes.”

Clark’s brow furled. “What?”

For a split second, something akin to panic took Bruce’s face. He really didn’t mean to say that out loud. Quickly he turned his back to the man.

“Fine, Clark, let’s go to lunch.”

Bruce started to head for the door, but Clark didn’t follow.

“Bruce.”

The maestro stopped when he heard the still yet firm voice. He then held his breath and waited.

“You know you don’t always have to avoid your problems. If there’s something troubling you, something too much for you to bear...” Bruce slightly flinched when he felt strong arms suddenly wrap around his waist and hug him from behind. 

When Clark spoke, his whisper felt like a light kiss to the ear. “You don’t have to go at it by yourself, Bruce. You’re not alone anymore.”

Bruce closed his eyes and almost melted into the warm embrace.

“Clark, I…”

A sharp sensation pricked at his heart, a faint reminder of a greater pain he had no intention of experiencing again. 

Bruce really wanted nothing more than to be assured by Clark’s words. If only it could be that easy.

Reluctantly he pulled away, but when he answered his voice was soft.

“Like I said, Clark, it’s nothing for you to worry about...”

Clark tried to read Bruce’s expression, but the maestro was looking towards the ground.

Bruce forced a smile and finally looked back up. “Let’s just go to lunch. Regardless of the amount of work I have, not eating won’t make it any less present.”

Clark knew Bruce was trying his hardest to assure him, and even though he still refused to tell Clark what was bothering him, the former composer couldn’t help but give in. 

“Alright, I guess that works for me,” Clark sighed with resignation.

Bruce looked genuinely relieved, and Clark decided he could at least be happy the man no longer seemed upset. Then again, in the back of his mind and the deepest part of his heart, Clark really wished Bruce would open.

To Be Continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I very much enjoyed writing Jon and Damian’s improve scene. It’s always hard for me to express music into words, but I hope just a fraction of what I wanted to relay was properly conveyed.
> 
> Their relationship has truly grown on me the more I write about it, and also I have been reading Super Sons. I really am happy these two characters are together now. 
> 
> Finally seeing Damian open up and acting more like a kid. Having friends is so different than him interacting with his family and his family’s colleagues. He always had to act older than he really is so he can feel like he’s keeping up.
> 
> Jon is just adorable, and a complete and pure sweetie, and I love that he doesn’t take Damian’s bull.
> 
> Okay, totally got sidetracked. In any case, the reason I picked this particular song was almost random. I literally typed into a search engine “Violin Piano improv duet”. Boy was it rewarding that this was the song that came up. It must have been fate, because in a lot of ways it seems kind of perfect considering their budding friendship and partnership.
> 
> So here is a really great version of the song _Just the Two of Us_ and what is the closes to what in my mind was Damian and Jon’s performance:
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e8gZJeK1g7I&index=53&list=PLzn__QR9_6NDy5oBqub1B5PFghY-X1cCW
> 
> Here is the actual version I found that inspired me to pick the song (which I also really liked, especially the violin part): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YQSzk44hBmk
> 
> Original Song by Bill Withers: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aUItt1-FZ2w
> 
> Then thinking about Clark singing Jon when he was younger, I had to add the remake version that Will Smith created for his son ;)
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_WamkRSDeD8
> 
> P.S I do like modern music (and love this song) even though I slightly agree with Damian that it’s a far cry from the complexity and originality of older music. It’s okay, meaningful lyrics or a nice beat makes me happy
> 
> P.SS Bruce and Clark ::smh::


	26. Allegro ma non troppo

“Clark, it’s been awhile,” the woman greeted.

Clark smiled back while leaning forward so he could accept the hug he knew was causing her to stand up on her toes. “Hey, Lana.”

Lana Lang, the one that got away. A childhood friend he shared so many intimate memories with growing up. Unfortunately by the time he found the courage to tell her his feelings, she’d already fallen into the arms of another man. To think Clark would lose to a reporter of all people.

In the end though, Clark was thankful they’d remained nothing more than friends, and she was undoubtedly the best one he’d ever known.

“So, how’s Jon doing?” Lana asked as she handed Clark a cup of freshly brewed coffee.

“Really well,” Clark answered while taking in the sweet touch of caramel and mocha wafting from his mug. Lana knew his favorite blend well, and whenever he came to Metropolis for his quarterly work meetings, she made sure to have a batch handy for when he would visit.

“I want to thank you again for talking me into letting him attend the GSPA. He’s really starting to come out of his shell now and even competing and accompanying too.”

Her emerald eyes glistened with proud excitement. “That’s wonderful! I just knew he would do well if he went there!”

“Yeah, Jon is really happy at the GSPA and even made a new friend.”

“That’s great!” 

Clark’s own grin widened at her enthusiasm. Lana was Jon’s first instructor, but more importantly, she was practically an aunt to him. After Lois passed, she’d helped Clark with a lot of thing’s concerning Jon. 

“Speaking of new friends…” Clark mumbled while clearing his throat and timidly averting his gaze. “That’s part of the reason I wanted to talk to you.”

Lana tilted her head. “Oh?”

“Well, I happened to make a new _friend_ too…”

Lana’s lips curled. “Oh you have now?”

Suddenly she was cupping her hands over his own larger ones and cheering.

“I’m so happy for you Clark! Give me all the details about her.”

Clark’s face turned beet red, and he sputtered back. “ _Her_? W-why are you so suddenly assuming things?”

Lana narrowed her eyes onto Clark. “Well, obviously from the way you’re blushing and trying to hide your eyes. It’s just like the first time you told me about Lois.”

Clark felt his cheeks heat up another several degrees, and he unconsciously hid his face more. “Well, _his_ name is Bruce.”

She raised a brow. “His?”

The room went silent while Clark restlessly fidgeted with his cup.

Lana folded her hands and leaned back in her seat with quiet deliberation.

“I’d be lying if I didn’t say I’m a little surprised considering how exclusively hetero you’ve always been.” 

She knowingly shook her head. “Then again, I guess you’ve never been the type to get all worked up over social labels.” 

A reminiscent laugh followed. “When Clark Kent falls in love, it doesn’t matter what the person or thing is. Be it a gorgeous piece of music or someone lovely, he just falls hard on his face without thinking about anything else.”

“You’re still assuming things!” Clark blurted with a flush that was even brighter than before.

Lana raised a skeptical brow. “I’m not _assuming_ anything, Clark. I know you’re head over heels for the person just from the way you smiled when you said his name.”

“Fine, you got me!” Clark huffed while throwing his hands up in defeat. He then gave the woman a half smirk. “I guess I can’t hide anything from you.”

“Of course not, Clark, you’re a terrible liar,” Lana smiled.

Her eyes and voice suddenly softened. “I’m happy for you Clark. I really am. You of all people deserve this.” 

“No, I don’t,” Clark quickly countered.

Lana looked back at Clark’s pained expression with her own wounded gaze causing the man to sigh and clarify.

“It’s okay, if accepting this happiness means I get to be with Bruce,” his mouth shifted and he met her troubled face with a reassuring smile. “Then I have no choice but to take and cherish it for all its worth.”

“Clark…”

“In any case,” Clark mumbled. “I was hoping I could ask you a favor,” he grimaced. “Err, well, more like your husband.”

“What do you need?”

“Well, since Pete works for the Daily Planet and did that investigative piece on the Luthor scandal so well, I was hoping he could maybe dig up other kinds of information.”

Lana quirked a brow. 

“Oh, is there someone in particular you want to investigate? Are you trying to find out something about this Bruce?”

Clark’s face warped with minor discomfort. “I, well sort of…but not so much anything about Bruce, more like, I was hoping he could find someone for me.”

Lana still appeared confused but nodded with assurance. “Alright, I’ll see what he can do.”

**************************************************************

The boy stumbled blindly through the void. 

Even though his eyes were wide open, and there was light all around, a sidle of darkness crept mercilessly behind him.

His heart was pounding violently against his chest, and the burning ache of lungs starving for air started to swell.

All the strength in his body was fading fast and his arms and legs were growing heavier with each stride. 

What started off as a frantic sprint, soon turned into a laboring crawl, but no matter how far he ran, the blackness continued to draw closer.

There was no escaping it. The shadow dogging him was threatening to overrun.

He wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and make it go away, but knew such an action would only bring the darkness faster upon him.

No, he had to keep his eyes open and move forward. He couldn’t stop otherwise it would catch him.

He made another grab for air, voraciously swallowing and gulping it in. That’s when he felt his blood turn cold with icy realization.

He inhaled again, struggling with all his might, but he knew it was already too late. What he was trying so desperately to flee had already consumed him.

He couldn’t deny it any longer. The signs were all there, the rapid beating of his heart, the furious scramble for air, the fraught trampling of feet against the pavement.

He couldn’t hear it. None of it. Not a single bit perceived.

The world was soundless. The nothingness had surrounded him from the outside and devoured his inner being.

Finally he collapsed.

With his knees to the ground, his fingers started to claw at his own ears.

A frantic shout erupted from his lungs, but it was voiceless. 

Tears started to pour from his eyes and he screamed out. Over and over his desperation intensified with every shrill cry.

Silence was his only reply.

A voice cut through the quiet. 

“Jon! Jon!” 

The boy gasped and then started to choke as he felt himself violently wrenched out of the darkness. 

His body was pouring sweat and tears were still tugging the corners of his eyes. “D-damian?”

He was in his bed and Damian was there with him gripping his shoulders tightly as if he’d just quite literally pulled the boy out of his nightmare.

Jon blinked and took in his surroundings gradually letting reality resurface and his fears unlatch his heart.

“I…what was…” Jon mumbled numbly.

“You were thrashing around in your sleep and shouting….”

Jon’s mind had been blank, but the moment Damian spoke, Jon started to remember every detail of his horrifying nightmare.

He burst into tears. “Damian it was horrible!”

Without warning he hugged the other boy and buried his face into his chest.

“ _Urt_!” Damian grunted. His body instantly stiffened and tensed at the unexpected and close interaction.

“No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t hear anything,” the seemingly unaware Jon continued to sob. 

Damian started to protest, but retracted his words and resigned to momentarily casting aside his discomfort.

“It was just a bad dream,” Damian attempted to reassure, and though he didn’t return Jon’s embrace, he still spoke in a soothing voice.

“No, it’s not just a dream!” Jon shouted while shaking his head. “They told me that my hearing is getting worse!” 

Damian slightly pulled back. “What?”

Jon squeezed Damian a little tighter. 

“I know it’s true. Every day I notice the changes. Even though they’re small, sounds that I used to hear so clearly are starting to get harder and harder to hear.

That’s why I always have so many appointments. They’re trying to figure out a way to stop it.”

Finally Jon pulled away, but the wide frantic look in his eyes made Damian wish he hadn’t. Jon was trembling and his irises were incredibly pale and small. This was definitely not an expression Damian wished to see on the normally cheerful Jon’s face.

“I don’t want to lose my hearing, Damian. If I can’t hear anymore, I would…” his dropped his face into his hands and hitched. “I’d rather just be…”

“Jon!” Damian snarled when he realized what the boy was suggesting. He then angrily squeezed Jon’s shoulders to the point of sharp pain.

The forceful action seemed to knock Jon back to his senses, and the life returned to his blurry azures. 

“What are you-” Damian suddenly gasped when Jon stretched out his arms towards him.

His first thought was to defend himself from the more than likely retaliating Jon, but he was instead surprised when he felt two hands cup over his ears.

“This is it,” Jon mumbled while looking at Damian point blankly.

Damian’s confusion was wide in his expression.

“This is my world, Damian,” Jon explained.

Damian’s eyes tapered. “I see…”

“It’s not so much that I can’t hear anything, but the way I experience life is always...muted.”

Jon finally withdrew his hands and smiled weakly. “Doesn’t sound that great, does it?”

Damian closed his slacken jaw and frowned.

Jon looked down at the bed and started to fidget with his hands.

“I wish…I really wish just once I could hear you play your violin.”

Damian’s face furrowed. “You hear me play all the time.”

“Yeah, but I want to _really_ hear you,” Jon exclaimed. “All of it. I want to hear everything. I want to experience it completely!”

His body started to shake again and lowered his head to the bed.

“It’s not fair!” Jon sobbed while burying his face further down further and clutching the sheets. “Why do I have to be different? Why was I born this way?”

“Jon…” Damian mumbled as he felt his chest tighten and the tips of his fingers tingle.

“I’m scared, Damian,” Jon cried while clutching the sheets around him. “I’m so scared one day I won’t be able to hear it anymore. Then what will I…” 

Jon’s voice broke off and he started to weep without restraint.

Finally, Damian realized why his hands were twitching.

“I’m sorry…” He sighed while patting Jon’s back.

***************************************************************

When he exited the bathroom, they met gazes. 

Jon’s eyes widened, and he quickly blushed and lowered his face.

It was the next morning. Jon didn’t exactly recall how the night ended, but from the puffy redness lingering on his face, he knew he must’ve cried himself to sleep. 

“I’m sorry about last night,” Jon apologized.

“Why should you be?” Damian shrugged while seeming completely indifferent. 

Jon still couldn’t find the courage to meet Damian’s gaze. 

“Well, I just kind of fell apart and put you in an awkward position.”

His hands started to squeeze the ends of his sleeves and fidget. “That nightmare shook me up really bad, but I’m feeling much better now.”

Finally, he looked back up and smiled dimly.

“Honestly, I’ve never told anyone those things before.”

Damian snorted his skepticism. “You, the boy who tells his father everything?”

Jon’s expression darkened. “I…I can’t tell my dad that stuff.

He…I think he already blames himself for too much, if I told him this, it would only make him feel worse.”

Damian crossed his arms. “So, you just pretend to be happy for his sake?” 

“I’m not pretending, “Jon fervently insisted. “I really am happy when I’m with my dad. He’s the best!

I just…” Jon turned his eyes back to the ground. “The thought of losing my hearing frightens me, but I try not to think about those things too much. I can’t live my life being afraid of what might happen.

I want to enjoy the life I have now while I still can, and even if the future doesn’t end up the way I expect it” Jon’s paused for a moment before smiling back at the other boy brightly. “I know my dad will always be there to support me, just like he’s always done, and just like always, we’ll figure it out together.”

Damian felt another stab at his chest. 

He lowered his own gaze and mumbled under his breath. “How easily you can forgive your father and yet you say you look up to me...”

“Damian?” Jon asked. He honestly didn’t hear what Damian said.

Damian redirected his attention back on Jon and spoke with a firmer voice. 

“Facing one’s worries head on, that’s admirable.”

Jon’s lips peaked more at the encouraging words. “Well there’s that or there’s giving up, and that’s one thing my dad taught me to never do.”

“Hmph,” Damian scoffed. “I suppose your father is more the man I originally thought him to be if he can instill values like that.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”

Damian rolled his eyes while pushing past Jon so he could finally reach the bathroom. “It was a compliment, Jon. Stop getting so worked up.”

“Was it?” Jon asked with obvious disbelief. “Sometimes with you I can’t really tell.”

Damian turned back around and Jon saw his haughty smirk. “It’s not my fault you are slow in everything but your capacity to play the piano.”

“Hey!” Jon protested.

“It was another commendation, Jon,” Damian sighed with vexation.

Jon’s lower lip stuck out and he frowned. “Damian, I don’t think I like being complimented by you anymore. Please feel free to stop.”

“As you wish,” Damian shrugged, “but don’t say I never tried.”

“Don’t worry. I definitely won’t ever say you did,” Jon groaned back.

 

*******************************************************

“Clark?” Bruce looked at the man with confusion. It wasn’t like him to show up unannounced. 

“Well, I wasn’t expecting you over today,” Bruce half smiled while coaxing him inside. Maybe there were times when surprises could be pleasant. 

“Bruce…” Clark answered back.

Bruce felt a pang of apprehension when he saw Clark’s downcast eyes. “Is something wrong?”

“Not really, but…” Clark hesitated. He then inhaled deeply before blurting out in one breath.

“I know what I’m about to say is going to upset you, and I really struggled all week deciding what to do, but I…even if we...” He squeezed his eyes closed and forced the words. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Clark?” 

“Bruce, I found Jason.”

The room went deathly silent.

Bruce’s mouth twisted to an uncomfortable shape. “Wha…why would you…”

He took a step back.

Clark took a step forward. “Bruce, I really think you should go and see him-”

Bruce’s azures flickered. “Why would you think something like that?”

Clark’s face fell guilty. “Bruce, I know about everything.” 

Bruce’s gaze sharpened, but his voice remained restrained. “Is that so…” 

Clark swallowed hard. He could just feel the maestro’s aura burning hotter with every confession.

Despite the heat, he continued to explain.

“Bruce, what happened to Jason wasn’t your fault. You need to stop blaming yourself-”

“And who are you to tell me something like that?” Bruce snapped back. “What do you even know?”

“Bruce-” 

“Did you talk to Dick again?”

Clark shrunk under Bruce’s fierce eyes. “Yes…” he mumbled. “…and Selina too...”

“WHAT?!” Bruce exploded.

“I’m sorry, Bruce!” Clark quickly apologized before Bruce could say another word. “I know I shouldn’t have gone behind your back.”

“Well that’s for damn sure!” Bruce snorted. “I told you Clark! I told you not to go digging into my past, but even despite what I said you still took it upon yourself to do it anyways?” 

Clark closed his eyes and shamefully shook his head. “I did, and you have every right to be angry with me, but Bruce, you can’t keep going on like this.”

Bruce smiled at Clark coldly. “Oh, so you hear a little bit about my past and suddenly you think you know everything about me?” his mouth warped back to a scowl, and he spat. “You don’t know anything at all!”

“Only because you shut everyone out and refuse to let anyone in,” Clark countered.

Bruce’s teeth grounded tightly, and he gritted lowly. “There are places you don’t need to go.”

“And why not?” Clark asked despite the obvious warning in Bruce’s tone. “I really care about you, and I just want you to be happy. If something’s wrong, I want to know. I want to help, but you won’t ever tell me anything.”

“What gave you the impression anything was wrong? Weren’t things going well between us?” Bruce defended.

“Only on the surface.” 

Bruce studied Clark’s grievous expression before clicking his tongue with irritation. “Of course that wasn’t good enough for you?”

“That’s all you want for us?” Clark asked with incredulous eyes. “Just a relationship that looks good on the surface where neither of us gets any closer than anything physical and superficial?” 

Bruce crossed his arms. “That’s all I need.”

Clark’s expression transformed from incredulous to disappointed. Just as he suspected, Bruce was confirming every one of his relational suspicions.

Dejectedly he shook his head and let out a regretful sigh. “I’m sorry, Bruce, but I’m not built that way. I want more for us”

“So that’s the reason you felt the need to trounce around in my life?” 

Clark’s face knitted, and he frowned.

“I hate to break this to you Bruce, but in a _real_ relationship, people tend to step in each other’s lives…”

He lowered his eyes and once again a look of shame took Clark’s features.

“But I’ll admit. I should’ve waited until you were ready to tell me all those things yourself…then again, talking to you now, it seems like that never would’ve happened.”

“Of course not,” Bruce ticked. “I’ve buried all those things for a reason.”

“Yes, and you buried yourself right along with them.”

Bruce’s scowl deepened at Clark’s retaliation. 

For a moment, the former writer matched his steely gaze before he suddenly grabbed Bruce by the hand and pleaded. 

“Listen to me, Bruce. It doesn’t have to be this way. It’s not too late for you, and this time you don’t have to go at it alone. I promise you if you just let me help-”

Bruce yanked his hand free and shouted. “And what makes you so qualified! You really think someone like _you_ is qualified to fix _me_?”

Bruce pointed an accusing finger at the injured looking Clark.

“Why don’t you take a good look at yourself first?!”

“Bruce, this is different-”

“How so?” Bruce snapped.

Clark’s shoulders fell and he mumbled grimly. “I can’t go back in time and change the past…the mistakes I made…I can’t undo them.”

“So then you figure you’ll fix mine instead?” 

Clark didn’t answer and only grimaced. 

“You are such a hypocrite!” Bruce laughed out dryly. “Siting here telling me to face my past?

You, the man who wallows in his guilt year after year.

The man who threw away all his talent and gave up writing!

You, the man who can’t even take off his wedding ring!” 

Clark jerked his face back forward. “Bruce?”

He studied the maestro’s eyes.

So that’s what it was, the silent unease Clark sensed all this time. The thing slowly pulling them apart and erecting an invisible wall between their hearts.

How could he have forgotten such a thing? Sure he never took his ring off and wearing it was just a ritual part of his life now but was that really a justifiable excuse for being so insensitive and careless?

Clark idly brushed the silver and gold band with his fingers. He then slightly twisted it around as though he were about to remove it before he felt his entire body locked up and he recoiled his hand.

Bruce watched Clark’s movements in careful silence.

Clark’s face crumpled and he looked back at Bruce helplessly.

“Clark, I want you to go,” Bruce coldly replied.

Clark looked at the stone-faced maestro with even more panic.

“Bruce, please-”

Clark’s words were instantly halted when Bruce bit back. “Clark, you invaded my privacy and blindsided me out of nowhere! I’m so upset right now I can’t even think straight.” 

“Bruce…I’m sorry…”

Bruce let out a tired sigh and all the frustration in his voice was traded for fatigue. “Clark, I need some time to process all of this.”

“Okay, I understand,” Clark agreed though there was so much more he wanted to say. 

“Will you call me when you’re ready talk?” a hopeful Clark asked.

Bruce didn’t even bother to look at the man and nodded.

Clark knew it wasn’t a good sign but couldn’t think of a better reply beyond, “Then I’ll see you later…”

After that, Bruce opened the door for Clark to exit through.

When Clark felt the vibration of wood and brass close behind him, his heart shook as well and a heavy premonition overwhelmed him.

To Be Continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really thought I would have this chapter completed sooner, but I ended up taking a little more time on some parts than I expected because I realized how important they are to the turning point of this story. 
> 
> Up until this point, Jon's disability has been a bit low key, but I always planned to make it a bigger part of this story. Sure he takes most of life with smile and thick skin, but sometimes the ones who seem the happiest have the greatest pain.
> 
> I know Bruce and Clark were having some sweet moments but underneath it all was still all their unresolved issues, and it was only a matter of time before it started to effect their relationship just as its done for all the relationships up until now. It's okay, the first part of fixing or accepting a problem is facing it. Hopefully the can survive this bump in the road (says the person writing the story, haha). I won't give much more away beyond that, but I will say the story is about to be more dramatic.
> 
> Well, thank you again to all who are sticking with this story. I hope you are still enjoying it and to all who have supported me with your kudos and comments, thank you so much! I truly give me the will and energy to work through this longer than planned chapter fic, haha. Well, it is finally reaching and end at least :)
> 
> I wanted to pick one of the songs Beethoven wrote after he went deaf. I think it represents a lot of elements of this story well. To think someone could face such a tragic turn of fate, overcome it, and manage his amazing feats. Still, when I listen to songs like this I can only imagine his pain and frustration, but he continued to do what he loved, and I think that really is one of the main themes I wanted to convey in this story. Beethoven is truly an inspirational genius!
> 
> Ludwig Van Beethoven - Symphony 9 _Allegro ma non troppo, un poco maestoso_ :  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3h7e_UI24BU


	27. Caprice

It was the day before their first major competition together. Everything up until now had only been building up to this performance. Just qualifiers where only the score mattered and not an actual elimination contest. In this next competition, Damian had to actually beat the other competitors, and if he won, he would not only be the reigning champion for their region, but also the US representative for the upcoming international contest. 

Even though he never said it out loud, Jon knew how important winning this was to Damian. In the past, he’d never gotten the opportunity to participate at an international level due to the minimum age requirements.

_‘If I move on to the next level, I will finally face competitors worthy of my skill and after that, **no one** can ignore me anymore.’_

The way Damian’s eyes lit up with excitement made Jon’s pulse race with a kind of exhilaration he never experienced before.

Quite honestly, Jon didn’t really have much interest in competing himself. Sure he did well enough on his own, and Maestro Wayne advised him it was a necessity if he truly wanted to grow as a pianist, but the sense of accomplishment he got didn’t even compare to when he accompanied for Damian. 

Of course, Damian was the star when they competed together. Jon just merely supported him, but being a part of something with Damian was reward enough. Damian was such a hard worker and always so driven. Somehow his feelings always found a way to influence Jon and made him strive even harder too.

“That was a good practice!” Jon breathed out enthusiastically. 

“Of course,” Damian shrugged. “This is our last session together before the final competition.”

The gravity of Damian’s words hit Jon hard. This was really it. No more chances to make mistakes. The next time they played together would be the actual competition, and yet somehow Damian didn’t seem bothered at all. Wasn’t he nervous? Jon really wished he could be as confident as Damian one day.

“Let me guess. You are nervous,” Damian sighed.

Jon’s eyes widened a little. How did Damian know what he was thinking?

As if he read his mind, Damian answered again. “The way your mouth is hanging wide open like the door of a household that doesn’t have the decency to close it gives you away.”

Jon somewhat frowned at Damian’s colorful analogy. Why did he always have to be so blunt?

“Well, it’s only natural, Damian. Aren’t you worried even in the slightest? Tomorrow you will be competing with the best from all across this nation.”

Damian’s eyes sharpened. “I told you already, Jon. I don’t have the luxury to think about such things. I have to, no, I _will_ win this. There is no room for failure. I refuse to wait another year to finally be recognized.”

“Damian…” Jon murmured. The violinist was always determined but something about the way he looked now seemed a little more personal.

“Well, it would definitely be problematic to me if my accompanist is feeling jittery. Although I could still win without your assistance, my chances are better if you do well too.”

Jon’s chest slightly puffed up. “Of course! You can always count on me, Damian. I won’t let you down. We’re partners!”

“Partners…” Damian mumbled to himself with a strange look on his face. He closed his eyes and nodded, but there was a faint curve about his lips that made Jon’s heart flutter a little quicker.

“Okay, then, Jon. How about we do something to help calm you?” Damian hummed as he started to put away his instrument.

“Calm _me_?” Jon blinked. That’s when he noticed Damian’s hands were slightly shaking.

Realization slowly crept over Jon. Maybe Damian’s resolve wasn’t as rock solid as he wanted everyone to believe.

Jon’s mouth slightly lifted. Perhaps there were other ways he could support Damian. 

“Okay, I have an idea of something fun we can do together,” Jon smiled. His face furrowed. “Umm, but my dad hasn’t really been feeling well the last few days, so I don’t think we can ask him for a ride.”

“That's fine,” Damian shrugged. “I am more than fine with using public transportation as a means of getting around.” 

************************************************************

“Ms Lydia!” the boy cheered when he saw a familiar woman near the entrance of the exhibit they were at.

“Oh, hello Jon and Damian,” the woman greeted back. “What brings you two here today?”

“We’re looking for Robin,” Jon answered before he tapered his eyes towards the glass in front of them. “We can’t seem to find him.”

The woman’s bright disposition suddenly darkened. “Boys, about Robin…”

Jon’s eyes widened with worry. “Did something happen to him? Is he alright?”

The woman nodded. “No he’s fine for the most part, but Robin has had a few,” she paused before choosing her words carefully. “ _Setbacks_.”

“What do you mean?”

Lydia let out a long exaltation before replying and Jon could just sense her frustration from the lines around her eyes. 

“Well, first of all, he hasn’t made any attempts at flying even though it’s been well past the time he should’ve learned.”

Jon felt hesitant and a bit apprehensive to ask his next question but somehow found the courage. “Is something wrong with him?”

“Well, I can’t say for sure just yet, but we’ve had a few cases like this in the past.”

“Meaning?” The silent Damian finally asked.

Lydia’s expression turned even more troubled. 

“Well, sometimes our rescues don’t deal very well with the trauma of falling out the nest and being abandoned by their parents.

Though in many cases their instincts kick in regardless, we still try to socialize them with other birds so they can learn from them. However, in Robin’s case, he doesn’t seem to be getting along well with the other birds. Rather than learn from them, he lashes out and attacks them. Sure, he gets along with his handlers out of necessity, but for some reason he has no trust for his own kind.”

“Oh no, that’s not good,” Jon frowned while dejectedly staring back towards the cage.

“Yes,” Lydia agreed. “And unfortunately due to his aggressiveness, we can’t keep Robin in the main bird cage anymore. Even though he’s not flying, he’s perfectly healthy so many of the weaker birds have no defense against his attacks.”

“So does that mean he’ll be by himself forever?” 

Lydia saw the pained look on the boy’s face and leaned down so he could see her encouraging smile.

“Well, it’s my hope that he’ll get along with his own species a little better. So maybe if we get another robin rescue or ask one of our sister sites if they have any, that might help,” she gave Jon as small pat of assurance. “Don’t worry boys. I’m sure things will work out for him in the end and until then, well try to make sure he’s as happy as he can be.”

“Thanks Ms. Lydia,” Jon smiled with a hopeful look.

After the woman said her farewells, Jon turned back towards the cage. He saw Damian’s reflection through the glass. The older boy’s face was as still and stoic as usual. 

Not sure what to say, Jon brought a hand up and touched the glass where Damain’s murky eyes were being reflected. “Poor Robin. I hope he doesn’t have to be alone for long.”

Finally a quiet voice spoke back.

“Robin kept calling out for his parents over and over again until he didn’t have a voice to speak. I know, because I spent the entire day listening to him and waiting for them, but they never came.”

Jon turned around. “Damian?”

Jon was surprised when he saw Damian’s face. It was much darker than his reflection had revealed.

Damian met Jon’s gaze with question. “Why did they abandon him?”

“Maybe they were killed?” Jon replied sadly.

“Or perhaps they simply couldn’t handle the burden of a child who’d fallen so far out of their reach.”

Jon felt his apprehension rise. Somehow it felt like they were both talking about two different things.

“Damian, are you okay?”

“I didn’t come here to see this kind of thing!” Damian suddenly shouted. “Feel free taking your time feeling sorry for Robin!”

“Damian, wait!” Jon called out as he watched the other boy take off running.

************************************************

Jon was completely out of breath when he finally caught up to Damian who was making his way towards the exit. Luckily Jon’s longer legs made him just a tiny bit faster. 

“Damian, what’s wrong?” Jon asked as he cut him off

“There’s nothing wrong,” Damian ticked as he tried to move past him.

Jon grabbed Damian’s sleeve. “No, there is.”

Damian scowled at the hand impeding him but didn’t reply.

Realizing what he’d inadvertently done, Jon quickly retracted his arm and nervously stammered.

“Look, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“He never came,” Damian quietly answered.

“What?”

“My father,” he clarified. 

“Don’t get me wrong,” Damian shrugged a bit too casually. “I understood the circumstances very well. My grandfather did a fine job painting a picture of the kind of man my father was.”

Damian’s gaze narrowed, and he spoke as if he were repeating words he heard a million times before.

_“Someone whose influence would only hinder my future.”_

Damian’s jaw tightened and he clenched through his teeth.

“Grandfather told me many times what a waste my father was. How he was a man gifted with unimaginable talent but decided to squander it all away.

That he even turned his back on his own family and legacy and eventually turned to a life of decadent frivolity.

When grandfather eventually confronted my father, it ended with father breaking his nose and being banished from the Al Ghul estate.

Of course, mother never tried to interfere with any of the quarreling. Though when I did ask her about it, she never had anything bad to say about father, but at the same time, she never had any words to defend him with either.”

Damian finally withdrew his cold eyes and looked towards the ground, and Jon felt his breath return after being freed from his intense gaze.

“In any case,” Damian sighed. “At least grandfather paid attention to me, though only because I was useful to him.”

Damian smiled but it was far from pleasant.

“A man who only bred daughters…who else would carry on the Al Ghul name?

So by grandfather’s request, mother dropped father’s last name before I was born, and grandfather got the male heir he always wanted.”

Damian un-fisted his hands and looked at the callouses on his fingers reflectively.

“No sooner did I start walking, was there a violin placed in my hands, and though it’s true that I play for my own goals now, at that time, playing that instrument was the only way I could define my own self-worth to everyone.”

Damian squeezed his hands together again and gritted.

“Because an Al Ghul who can’t play the violin is not someone worthwhile at all…”

Damian shook his head and let out a dry laugh.

“It’s fine though. I excelled at it as is expected of an Al Ghul son, and all was fine, grandfather and mother were happy and I had no care about the felonious man who did nothing for me beyond sire me into this world. 

But then…” Damian’s eyes dimmed and his voice lowered.

“But then I started to hear news in the music community about a remarkable piano instructor. So much so, students from even my part of the world moved to America in hopes of being instructed by him. An extraordinary man who bore only the best results...”

Damian’s mouth twitched a little as though he were forcing something back.

“Imagine my surprise when I learned this man was none other than my own father.”

Damian’s eyes shrank. 

“So then I started to wonder, how much of what my grandfather told me was actually true.

How was it someone as abysmal as grandfather painted able to produce such exceptional students?”

A bit of a dark smile quirked over Damian’s face.

“So that’s when I decided I wanted to meet him for myself and make my own opinion, but grandfather forbade it and said it would only disrupt my training.”

The boy suddenly smirked at Jon triumphantly.

“I knew he would say this. So I made a bargain with him and guaranteed I could best his score at a contest he still held the title for if he would only allow me to see my father just once.”

Damian looked at his hands again.

“It was quite the wager though. I practiced nonstop, my fingers bled daily, but somehow, by some feat, with these abilities of mine, with my own power, I won.”

He scowled.

“I still look back at how artlessly excited I was to finally meet him. 

I called him right away. It was the first time I could remember hearing his voice. He seemed surprised, but at the same time…” Damian’s face slightly wavered to something almost soft. “He sounded so happy, or so I thought…”

Damian closed his eyes tightly and slightly bowed down towards the ground.

“I wanted to show my father all of my accomplishments, and I couldn’t think of any better way than on the stage. So I invited him to come and hear me perform at my concert the following day.”

Jon felt his heart drop when he heard Damian’s voice shake.

“I know my request was last minute,” Damian exclaimed while leaning further down and gripping his legs tightly for support. “But he promised me he would come, and I truly believed him. I really did, but he…” 

Damian lost his resolve and shouted. “He never came!”

Jon saw the tears the boy was forcing back, and started to move towards him, but Damian quickly turned his back to him and ticked.

“Apparently there was some kind of accident involving one of his prized students, and because of that fact, he couldn’t make it to my concert. He promised me he would make it to my next performance, but by then I realized his promises were as empty as grandfather had warned me. So I,” Damian shook his head restlessly. “So I told him I never wanted him to come and hear me play again!”

Damian went silent for a moment and then his voice lowered.

“I just…I couldn’t bear to be disappointed by him again…” 

He sighed and finally turned back to face Jon.

“After that, I never spoke to him again, but when grandfather passed I was _forced_ under his care until my mother could find a more suitable arrangement.”

Damian’s stance tightened and he clenched.

“My father doesn’t need me, and I never needed him. I don’t know why I ever thought otherwise. I was just a silly child back then believing otherwise.

Father has plenty of children at his school to take care of. Children who actually play the piano and can carry on his legacy.”

The lines around Damian’s face faltered a little.

“That night he never showed up, he made it very clear to me which children matter more to him.”

“Damian…” Jon mumbled. He could read the hurt clearly from his expression, but wasn’t sure what to say. 

Something ignited in older boy’s eyes when he heard Jon’s voice, and he growled back.

“Don’t look at me with the same eyes you use for Robin. I don’t want your pity, Jon!”

Damian’s mouth trembled but he quickly covered it with a haughty smirk.

“It’s fine. With these skills of mine, I don’t need anyone. Not grandfather, not mother, and never once my father!”

Jon couldn’t take it anymore and finally answered back. “You’re wrong Damian.”

“What?!” Damian bit back.

Jon reached out a hand not exactly sure what he intended do but spoke with all the sincerity he could find. 

“You haven’t been alone all this time.”

Damian swatted away his gesture. “And what would you even know?!”

Jon’s face knitted to a firmer shape. 

“Well for one thing, I know maestro really does care about you.”

“Of course you would take his side!” Damian snorted while throwing his hands up. “I should have known better than to get myself involved with one of father’s students. I see now where your allegiance truly lies.”

Jon’s face crumpled with hurt. “No, it’s not like-”

“To think you would actually choose being _my_ friend over being _his_ student!” 

Jon felt another sting of pain. Was this how Damian really saw their friendship? Was he really so insecure that he would believe such a thing? Jon had to make him understand.

“No you’re wrong!” he suddenly shouted back with even more fervor. “It’s because I _AM_ your friend that I’m telling you this.”

Damian looked slightly startled by Jon’s unexpected outburst, but the boy wasn’t finished.

“You think being friends means I’ll always agree with you?”

Damian didn’t answer and just ticked.

Jon shook his head. “Damian, friendship doesn’t work that way,” he sighed, but his voice was much softer.

“Damian, I really look up to you as a musician, but when it comes to a lot of other things you don’t have a clue.”

They met eyes again but this time Damian was the one trapped under Jon’s gaze.

“Damian, I know maestro cares about you, but you’d rather keep your eyes closed and be mad at him instead of giving him a chance.

Even though you’ve lived here in Gotham for over two years now, you two still act like you’re a thousand miles apart and for why?”

Damian looked at a loss for an answer and took to piercing his lips together in defiance instead.

Jon let out a sympathetic sound but was even more determined to get his point across.

“I’m sorry Maestro didn’t go to your concert. I know you worked really hard and it must’ve been really disappointing, but the maestro I know, he wouldn’t have broken his promise to you unless it was absolutely important.”

“Yes, of course!” Damian retaliated, “because every one of his students is more important to him than me!”

“No, that’s not true at all!” Jon immediately snapped back.

“And how would you know?” Damian spat.

“Because maestro threatened to quit and leave all his students for you!”

Damian’s scowl went blank. “What?”

“I heard it myself. After the fight we got into, the chancellor wanted to suspend you, but maestro knew if that happened you’d be disqualified from this competition.

So he begged and pleaded, and when chancellor still refused, he threatened to quit.”

Damian took a step back and shook his head. “No, that’s not…” his voice broke off.

“Just like my dad, I can tell maestro is really lonely. The only time I ever see him happy is when he’s teaching.” 

Jon gave a small reminiscent smile while thinking back on his own experiences with Bruce. He then looked back towards Damian who was staring at the ground in quiet shock. 

“Maestro loves his job, he _needs_ his job, but for your sake he was willing to throw it all away.”

Damian still looked at a loss and didn’t answer.

“And did you know even though you told him you never wanted him to go to any of your concerts again, he still goes to all of them.

Damian jerked his head back up. “What?”

Jon nodded. 

“Yes, he told me himself, and every time I’ve gone, I’ve always seen him too.”

Damian’s face looked even more shocked now.

“I don’t know the kind of man maestro used to be or why your grandfather hated him so much, but the maestro I know now is nothing like that at all.

He works really hard at everything he does and makes sure all of us can be our best. He’s an earnest man with a good heart. Everyone respects him so much, and he really cares deeply for everyone even if he tries to act like he doesn’t.”

Jon frowned when Damian retreated another step and started to shake his head in denial.

“Someone like that is not a bad man, and someone who is willing to sacrifice his only happiness for a son who won’t even give him chance is not a bad dad!”

Now Damian’s eyes were squeezed tightly shut, and he had his hands strung through his hair. It wasn’t until Jon shouted that Damian looked back up. 

Tears were pouring from the younger boy’s eyes and he was shaking as he spoke.

“You have no idea how lucky you are, Damian. Your father is still alive. Maybe you should start acting like it before it’s too late!

To Be Continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, sorry for the lack of Superbat in this chapter, but the Damian and Jon altercation kind of took a mind of its own and it kept getting longer and longer, but I have no regrets. I think all of this needed to be put out there finally. Just like his father, Damian can’t work towards fixing their problems if they don’t come to terms with them first.
> 
> Jon had to finally give Damian some tough love, and honestly, I can’t say how many times I’ve had to do the same with my close friends in order to get through to them. Still, I think if you’re really truly close and care about someone, sometimes you have to make yourself go out of your comfort zone in order to help a friend you know is harming themselves, and if your friendship is strong enough, you both will be better for it at the end. Damian isn’t very used to dealing with friends, but at the same time I think he is much less stubborn than Bruce, so let’s just hope things will work out better for them than with their idiot dads, lol.
> 
> Jon doing this will also be important towards Bruce and Damian repairing their relationship. Really they just need to sit down and talk and see how much they both seem to want the other to notice them.
> 
> Now Bruce just needs Clark to knock some sense into him too, haha. Too bad with the adults are always so much more complicated.
> 
> Well, now everyone knows what is up with Bruce and Damian (or at least what started it). Oh, and to add salt to the wound. Not only did Bruce feel like he lost Jason the night of Jason’s accident, he also thinks he lost his only chance to reconnect with his son too. Poor, Bruce. Sorry I keep putting you through so much…
> 
> The song picked for this chapter is Niccolo Paganini’s _Caprice no. 24 in A minor_ : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6cfWJop0LZ0
> 
> This is one of the most difficult solo violin pieces ever written to date, and I think it really exemplifies Damian’s character in this story, and also his feelings at this particular stage. The word Caprice means “a sudden change of mood or behavior,” and when I listened to the constant changes and sometimes chaotic shifts I thought it was perfect. 
> 
> Thanks again for all the support everyone! So many wonderful comments and thoughts have been fueling me as I try to draft the end of this fic. I hope you liked this chapter and I look really forward to sharing the next one :)


	28. When the Love Falls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the very delayed update. I was away for work/training for the last week and a half and have been extremely busy and exhausted most the trip. I think i fell asleep most nights in mid sentence trying to write this chapter haha. Also this chapter was just so important so I didn't want to half a$$ it. In any case, thank you for your patience and please enjoy ;)

Five days passed. Clark made sure to keep his phone close at all times. 

On a few occasions, he would find himself subconsciously playing with the call button while sifting it deeper inside his pockets.

Every so often he would receive a message, to which he would immediately drop everything he was doing and check it. 

A rush of adrenaline always washed over him followed by a gut churning feeling of anxiousness. Then eventually disappointment would settle when he realized it was just another advertisement for the latest and greatest weight loss pill or enhancement drug. No matter how much he flagged them, those pesky ads always seemed to find a way into his inbox.

Beyond that, Clark didn’t receive any calls or messages outside of work or those from his son.

Clark was in agony during the entire wait. He hardly got any work done and barely ate or slept. Steadily his disposition wore down until even Jon noticed something was wrong.

Clark told him he wasn’t feeling well, and in reality, it was the truth. This was the kind of sickness that was unlike any normal illness.

Then it happened. At 3am on the sixth day, sometime after the man actually managed to doze off, he received a text.

‘Meet me at my office tomorrow after work.’

Clark didn’t see the message till a few hours later. Needless to say, he didn’t get anysleep after.

Clark arrived hours before he knew Bruce would be off but made a point to steer clear of the maestro’s office. During the wait, Clark found himself staring into a cold cup of coffee, restlessly making lazy circles around the Styrofoam print.

Clark’s mind was a hazy blur the entire time he waited. He really didn’t want to think about what was going to happen. Then again, no matter how much he tried to free his mind of its worries, his heart couldn’t find solace.

Bruce was definitely upset and Clark understood well the reasons why. Still, regardless of having put their relationship on the line, Clark really wanted to help him. Even if that meant things wouldn’t go so well for them at the end. Then again, maybe this was just the price someone like Clark deserved to pay.

The cup crumpled tighter in Clark’s hands. It was finally time for him to face the music.

“Bruce…” the man mumbled while standing outside the maestro’s office with his head slightly bowed.

“Clark…” Bruce quietly replied while leading him inside and shutting the door behind them.

Their lines of sight briefly passed. Clark’s typically vibrant azures were dim and tired but still a bright reflection against Bruce’s own dark royals.

Clark quickly lost his nerve and nervously averted his gaze but not before sweeping a glance over Bruce’s face. It was empty and devoid of any visible tells.

Bruce heaved a heavy sigh, and Clark watched the rise and fall of his chest through his peripherals while holding his breath.

“This isn’t,” for a millisecond Bruce paused. “This isn’t going to work anymore.”

The words Clark expected came out as one long exhalation, but despite his grasp over them, Clark still couldn’t help but ask out in desperation.

“Bruce, what are you saying?”

Now Bruce was the one avoiding Clark’s eyes. “I…let’s just end this now before it gets any more complicated.”

Clark’s chest tightened. Then without any thought or resignation he blurted.

“Bruce, I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean for things to go this far. It started with me just trying to understand why someone who can play like you could wake up one day and leave it behind, and I knew I should’ve just dropped it, but the more I learned, the deeper I got caught up, and when I found out what happened to Jason…well, I just wanted to find him and help him if I could, but when I did, I just knew the two of you had to meet again because he-”

At the mention of Jason’s name, Bruce’s composure finally waned, and he snapped.

“You think I don’t have the means to find Jason on my own?”

Clark’s face crumpled with confusion. “So, you already know about him?”

“No,” Bruce nodded. “I never tried to find him. Jason left for a reason, and I have no right to interfere with his life anymore.”

“I see…” Clark trailed with a perturbed look. “So that’s how it is…”

Something about Clark’s expression sparked Bruce’s frustration. This was not what he wanted to talk about. Already the other man was diverting Bruce away from his original design. Why was it always like this with Clark? Bruce needed to regain control.

“Clark,” he sighed. “I admit, what you did really upset me, but there is more to it than that. This relationship moved so much faster than I anticipated.”

Clark’s eyes flitted with even more question forcing Bruce to clarify.

“Clark, I told you from the start, I’m not a good person, and I meant it.”

The maestro’s eyes suddenly turned hard, and he narrowed them against Clark’s own stricken sapphires.

“Do you really think you’re the first person I’ve approached like this before?”

“What?” Clark mouthed.

Bruce’s lips curved into a wry shape that Clark couldn’t quite understand. It was almost as if he was gloating.

Casually the maestro sifted a hand through his hair and explained.

“You see,” Bruce started. “After my mother passed, something inside of me changed. Suddenly everything in my life became… _empty_.

At first, I tried to fill the void with all of my accomplishments. Sure, I wanted to prove to my father that I could make my mark even without his approval, and by the world’s standards, I did.

There wasn’t anyone on the stage that I couldn’t beat, not a single seat empty when I performed, and any position I sought as a pianist was mine for the taking, but…”  
Bruce’s voice dimmed. 

“It still wasn’t enough.”

He paused for a moment and the curl about his lips turned to an uncomfortable but somewhat reminiscent smile. He then looked at the ground thoughtfully and sighed.

“I thought taking Dick as my apprentice would help and for a while it probably did. I even pursued a relationship with the only woman I ever loved, but it didn’t work out. 

Bruce closed his eyes and laughed as if he was just realizing something, and Clark felt even more of the maestro’s loneliness.

“Eventually, I tried building a family of my own, but that also ended in failure...”

Another long exhalation filled Bruce’s pauses and from the way his face furrowed Clark could tell Bruce was recalling something unpleasant.

“After my father passed, I was given a nearly limitless supply of money to do with as I pleased, but no matter who and what I bought, or what kind of mind and heart numbing substances I abused, it still didn’t sate me.”

Bruce clenched his jaw tighter as if he was trying hard to bite something back before loosening his mouth and murmuring.

“In the end, I turned back to teaching, and I admit it is somewhat gratifying instructing new students year after year, molding and shaping them so in some small way their accomplishments become my own, but really,” Bruce finally blinked his eyes back open and looked straight back at Clark. “None of it is lasting,” he looked back down at his fisted hands. “This career of mine just barely sustains me, and that’s why…”

Bruce stopped long enough for Clark to hear the halt of his own pulse.

The morose look on the maestro’s face as he clutched the front of his shirt had Clark’s heart stopping while he hung on every word.

“I can’t help but chase after something,” Bruce latched his chest tighter. “ _Anything_ to fill the hole, and for that reason,” Bruce smiled faintly at Clark. “I can’t help but find myself gravitating towards people like you.”

“Bruce?” Clark whispered.

The maestro’s warm expression turned even softer.

“I really thought you would be different, Clark. To finally obtain the one I pined after for so long.” Bruce lifted a hand up as if he were about to reach towards Clark. “I suppose I did keep you around longer than most,” he pulled back. “But I see now, it still wasn’t enough. It’s _never_ enough.” 

Bruce withdrew even further into himself.

“No one can quell my emptiness. Not Dick, not Selina, not Jason…” he looked at Clark miserably. “And not you.” 

Clark couldn’t take it any longer. Both his throat and chest were burning, but he somehow managed to choke out a reply. “Bruce-” 

Bruce took a step back when Clark tried to reach for him and shook his head.

“Everything is only temporary, and now that you’ve outlived your usefulness, I don’t need you anymore.”

Bruce started to laugh but his face didn’t match the action.

“It’s a little disappointing,” Bruce mumbled. “I at least thought we’d have a little more fun together, but you had to go and trample where you didn’t belong.”

Panic took Clark. He had to say something fast. He couldn’t let things end like this.

“Bruce, you can’t mean what you’re saying,” Clark urged. “There’s no way what you and I have-”

“Just give it up already!” Bruce shouted.

Clark winced a little but continued to plead. “Bruce-” 

Before he could get the words out, Bruce cut him off.

“I warned you, Clark. So why can’t you understand? I used you just like I used everyone else.”

“No, you’re lying.”

“And how would you know?” 

“Because I do!” 

Bruce glared back at Clark. The man was clearly set on refuting anything he said. Why did he always have to make things difficult and back Bruce into corners? Was there really no other choice but to be cruel?

Clark could barely hear the maestro when he spoke up again but the chill in his voice made Clark’s heart sink.

“You only know what I led you to believe, but the truth is you hardly know me at all.

That person you heard about in all those stories, the one who played those beautiful songs, he died a long time ago.

“Bruce…”

Clark unconsciously stepped back but wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the steely haze pooling in the maestro’s eyes or the frigid curve of his lips. Whatever it was, Clark knew it was a glaring truth he didn’t want to face.

Bruce’s mouth tugged up even higher when he realized Clark was finally starting to understand.

Just a bit more, just a few more pushes. 

He moved a little closer. He had to be confident. He had to be resolute. He knew what needed to be done.

“Whenever it becomes useful, I can easily impersonate that man,” Bruce smirked. “Just like any performance, a masterful maestro can move the hearts of the mindless masses. A simple task for a wicked pretender.”

“No…” Clark whispered while shaking his head. 

“And you were so desperate.”

“Bruce…” Clark felt his vision start to blur. His head was spinning, and doubt was finally starting to settle in.

Bruce saw the last bit of hope extinguishing from Clark’s eyes. 

Slowly he reached his hand forward and brushed the man’s shoulder. The action shook Clark from his daze and he desperately searched Bruce’s eyes.

Clark wanted to believe the action was meant to be comforting, but the look on the maestro’s face was far too cold and empty. 

Finally, Bruce let out an idle sound and spoke.

“Someone with a heart like yours, you wanted so desperately to love again, but…” Bruce’s face twisted and he frowned. “I’m not Lois.” 

“What?” Clark balked.

Now Bruce’s hollow gaze was stern and his voice started to rise.

“You heard me play her song that day, and ever since you’ve been struck.”

“No…” Clark started but found himself at a loss for any further retaliation.

Bruce, however, was far from done.

“You didn’t come after me because you thought I was some wonderful person.

Just admit that you wanted so badly to hold onto that woman again you were willing to look for her inside anyone!”

“No, that’s not…” The words chocked up inside of his throat.

Clark truly felt at a loss as he started to look back on the first moment he heard Bruce play. At the time, he really had mistaken Bruce for Lois, and it was for that reason his curiosity for the maestro even sparked.

Still, there was no way what Bruce was saying could be true. Was it?

“You want to fix me?” Bruce bitterly scoffed. “Then everything falls perfectly into place? My life magically gets better, and I start playing the piano again?”

“Bruce…” Clark pleaded, but the maestro wouldn’t stop.

“Was that your plan? Composer Clark Kent’s masterful pianist returns to him and all is right in the world?”

Clark didn’t answer but had a pained look on his face.

Hearing everything so bold and brashly for the first time, how could he deny none of it was true?

“Just give it up, Clark,” Bruce ticked. “This isn’t some kind of romantic story we’re living in. You can’t always compose a perfect ending. Life doesn’t work that way.”

Clark was now looking past Bruce in a daze as he struggled with his own heart and thoughts. Bruce recognized the man’s turmoil, and gave a somewhat sympathetic look before sighing.

“Let’s just both admit we were lonely and used each other.”

He smiled weakly.

“Honestly, I’m not upset. It was fun while it lasted, and I will have many sweet memories when I look back at our time together. Still it was only a matter of time before our eyes opened, and the lie would have ended.”

Bruce paused and examined the stunned Clark before he felt a slight tinge of remorse and added.

“You’re a good man, Clark, but you won’t find what you’re looking for from me.”

Satisfied Clark finally understood, Bruce started to make his way towards the door before he was suddenly grabbed by the wrist and whirled back around.

“No Bruce, you’re wrong!”

“Clark?!” Bruce gasped as he met eyes with Clark’s wild sapphires.

“Why do you keep running away!”

“I-I’m not sure what you,” Bruce stammered while guiltily looking away.

“Is this how it was with the others too?” Clark asked.

Bruce lowered his head and didn’t reply but flinched when he felt the hand holding him squeeze a little tighter.

“You just push everyone away because you don’t want to deal with anything difficult”

“Clark, stop it,” Bruce warned while trying to jerk his hand back.

“No, I won’t!” Clark shouted. He then pulled Bruce closer and forced their eyes to meet. “Not until you give me a better answer.”

“I already explained it to you,” Bruce growled.

“I don’t believe you!”

“Then you’re more frustrating than I imagined!” Bruce snarled. 

“And you’re a liar!” 

Finally, Bruce felt Clark’s bruising grip release, but he wasn’t granted his freedom. Instead the maestro was captured by both shoulders and squeezed together tightly.

“You can lie to yourself all you want but don’t think I’m so willing to be fooled.”

Bruce inhaled sharply when he was drawn in closer, their chests were now flush and their breaths practically mingling.

Then Clark spoke and Bruce felt his body ache at the low soft tenor reverberating against his ears.

“You’re right Bruce,” Clark sighed. “I can’t write anymore, and I do still love Lois, but after meeting you, I finally started to think that even though I don’t deserve it, if it was at least for you, then maybe it was okay to love again.”

He knew it wasn't possible, but at those words, Bruce’s felt his heart shatter, and he forcefully wrenched himself free.

“Stop it Clark! Just stop!” Bruce shouted. “Can’t you see I don’t want any of this?” 

At this point, Bruce knew he was trembling but somehow spoke without shaking.

“Bruce?” Clark blinked. Now the maestro’s entire body was trembling.

Bruce realized this too and hugged his arms to his body in an attempt to alleviate the shake.

“Nothing has gone right since I met you,” Bruce tremored. “Ever since the beginning you’ve been wrecking my life! Why can’t you…”

Bruce went quiet and lowered his head.

This wasn’t what he planned. He was just supposed to let Clark off easy like all his other flings. When did things start to become so serious? 

To think after just a short time Clark managed to find such a deep place in the maestro’s heart. That the man fit so perfectly, Bruce didn’t even realize he was there until it was already too late. 

Bruce bit down on his inner cheek and for a fleeting moment his resolve began to waver.

Maybe Clark really was different. Maybe things really could work out this time.

_‘NO!’_

Bruce pushed the thoughts back and remembered what he’d promised himself all those years ago. That there was far worsts pain than what he was experiencing now, and if he gave away the last bit of his heart and failed, he would be lost completely.

This was it, he had to drive Clark away. He couldn’t let the man take away the last piece of his soul.

No matter what, Bruce couldn’t allow that to happen. He didn’t want to experience that agony again, even if it meant he had to hurt someone as kind as Clark. 

_‘Truly, I am a wicked man…’_ Bruce gritted as he realized what he needed to say to finally drive Clark away.

Clark felt the shift. The air around Bruce changed, but he couldn’t see the man’s face.

Once again, fear gripped Clark’s heart. Something was telling him to reach out and hold Bruce before it was too late. Unfortunately, the only thing he managed was a very feeble plea.

“Bruce, please…” Clark begged, but he knew such a weak attempt would never reach the man. 

Unfortunately, Clark’s own hesitation and doubt was firmly holding him back, and before he knew it, the moment to act had already passed.

“Stop it Clark!” Bruce exploded. “Stop trekking your feet all over my heart! Don’t you think you’ve ruined enough lives? Weren’t Lois and Jon enough!”

There it was. He finally said it, and like a coward Bruce refused to face Clark. Instead he took to looking at the man’s chest, but he didn’t miss the sharp jerk he saw when Clark heard him.

After that, there was a long silence and even though the two of them were so close, Bruce couldn’t even perceive the man’s breaths.

Maybe it was possible Clark’s heart had stopped. Really after what Bruce just said, he wouldn’t be surprised.

The unbearable silence took each passing second like years while Bruce waited for Clark to respond.

“I see…” a low voice finally replied.

Bruce wondered what kind of expression the man was making but didn’t have the nerve to look.

Something weary exhaled between them. 

“Fine, Bruce,” Clark sighed. “If this is what you really want, then I won’t force you.

If you only want to live life chasing after temporary gratification, then so be it.”

Bruce never heard Clark sound so cold and hardened before. It wasn’t a voice befitting of such a warm man. 

Another tug pulled Bruce’s heart, but he knew it was already too late. Instead he just waited with baited breath as Clark brushed pass him and walked towards the door.

Just as his hand reached for the knob, Clark suddenly stopped.

He then turned back around, and Bruce made the mistake of looking up and meeting Clark’s gaze.

The alluring blue that typically skipped the maestro’s heart was now worn and dark. 

Clark was frowning but there wasn’t any heat behind it, and he looked more pained than angry.

“I will say this…” Clark trailed. His expression then twisted to something firmer.

“Life is hard and terrible things happen that we can’t control, but that doesn’t mean we can’t do anything about what happens after. 

We can either accept it, learn from it, and move on, or we can let it chase us forever and spend the rest of our lives running.”

Clark let out a droll sound and shrugged as if he'd just been enlightened.

“I finally realize something though…”

The bitter look Bruce expected and deserved finally took Clark’s face.

“You’re a coward, Bruce.

All these years, you lost so much, but the piano isn’t to blame. Rather than face your problems you always run away.

That’s why you couldn’t face your dad, you refuse to face Jason, and at the rate you’re going, you won’t ever face your son.”

Bruce felt his entire body quake before blinding white flashed behind his eyes.

Clark saw the punch coming but knew he didn’t have time to avoid it.

“Get out!” Bruce snarled while looking down on the man who’d fallen to the ground.

Clark didn’t say anything and only wiped away the bit a blood trickling from the cut on his lip. 

Honestly, at this point, the two of them were just trading blows. Both hurting and wanting to hurt back.

Sure, Clark could have said more, could’ve retaliated worse, but really what was the point?

It was finally over, and when Clark finally picked himself off the ground and left the office, he didn’t even think about turning back.

Bruce stared at the door for well past Clark's departure.

His entire body was numb and his mind had gone blank. It wasn’t till he felt the ache from his own bruised knuckle that he finally woke back to reality and everything hit him at once.

Bruce’s legs gave way and he shrunk towards the ground. He then leaned against the door with his face in his hands and his fingers through his hair and whispered.

“I’m sorry, Clark…”

************************************************ 

After his outburst, Jon ran off, and took the first train to his dad’s apartment rather than go back to the dorm. He was too afraid to face Damian and wasn’t sure what else to say. He considered apologizing, but knew he wasn’t wrong. Everything he said was what he truly believed and as his friend, Jon knew he had to tell Damian.

Of course, Jon respected maestro Wayne and looked up to him, but this wasn’t about picking sides. It was about Jon keeping his stubborn friend from missing out on one of the most meaningful relationships in his life.

There was nothing Jon treasured more than his own father. He loved his dad even more than music.

To think so many years had been wasted between the maestro and Damian. If only Damian could set aside his anger and pride and understand.

Jon suddenly stopped walking and ruffled his fingers furiously through his hair.

For whatever reason, his dad hadn’t come home the night before. Then again, Jon did show up at his apartment without any notice. 

He thought about calling him and letting him know but decided it wasn’t worth it. That is until he realized there was absolutely no food at his apartment. Luckily there was a nearby convenience store that he and his dad often frequented where he knew he could get some snacks.

Unfortunately, the solo walk gave Jon plenty of time to mull over his thoughts.

_‘Damian hates me now. I just know it!’_

_‘I shouldn’t have yelled at him, but at the same time. Sometimes I feel like he won’t ever listen unless I do.’_

Jon completely crouched towards the ground and closed his eyes.

“Gah! What should I do?” he groaned out loud.

Our final competition is tonight. I have to face him!”

Suddenly the boy’s eyes jolted open and he was hit with a realization. _‘I hope what I said doesn’t affect his performance.’_

Jon heaved heavily and half laughed. _‘No, of course it won’t. This is Damian we’re talking about._

_Still, I need to talk to him. I have to set things right between us, and I also have to make him understand!_

_Damian and maestro deserve each other, and I know they both want to be closer. If only the two of them could just talk. Then I’m sure they’d both understand each other and finally become a family again!’_

Jon smiled at the notion of such a thing happening. He then stood back up and had a renewed sense of determination in his eyes.

_‘That right! I’ll talk to Damian after our performance. Then I’ll make him see. I have to do this for him! I have to help my friend!’_

“Hey kid, watch where you’re walking!” An angry construction worker suddenly barked. The boy had been so overwhelmed with his thoughts, he didn’t even see all the work zone signs.

When the boy didn’t move or answer back, the man grabbed him by the back of collar and shouted again. “Hey kid, you listenin’?!”

Jon just stared up at the man with wide eyes and a pale face.

Sure, the man had been a little rough, but he didn’t expect the boy to look so horrified and lost.

Staring down into the pair of azure doe eyes, the construction worker felt a wave a guilt and started to mumble clumsily. 

“Sorry kid, I just, you know it’s kinda dangerous, and I don’t want you to get hurt, so…

Now the boy was visibly shaking. Something definitely wasn’t right.

Worried, the man reached out a hand towards Jon and spoke even softer. 

“Hey kid, you alright?

Tears were now welling up in the boy’s eyes, and he started to shake his head and step away.

“Kid?”

“NO!” Jon suddenly shouted while putting both hands to his ears.

_‘I can’t….I can’t hear him at all!’_

It didn’t make sense. Why couldn’t Jon hear him? It was then that Jon realized he didn’t even hear his own shout and despite all the construction work around him, he didn’t hear any noise.

It was then that he realized during his entire walk, he hadn’t heard anything either but was so distracted by his thoughts, he didn’t register it until now.

“Hey Kid, wait!” The man yelled when Jon suddenly darted off in a panic.

Jon’s eyes were closed, and he was squeezing back the tears. The only thing he could think about at the moment was finding his dad. 

He had to find him. His dad would know what to do. His dad would make everything better.

“KID LOOK OUT!”

Jon didn’t hear the warning, but he felt the rumble of something large approaching.

When his royals flashed back open, Jon realized he was standing in the middle of a street and a flashing light was barreling towards him.

_‘Dad…’_

To Be Continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (>_<) Yes I know this a terrible cliffhanger! I don’t mean to be mean, but it really seemed like the best stopping point.
> 
> Speaking of being mean, I hope everyone knows Bruce was only saying all those terrible things to Clark because he is an idiot, but we all know he didn’t really mean them.
> 
> Okay, well, I guess this is just a depressing and stressful chapter (sorry). I will try to update sooner this time around since my trip is coming to an end and hopefully I can write on the plane ride home.
> 
> Chapter title is after Yiruma's "When The Love Falls":  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IVeD9b8cgow
> 
> (A more modern piece from one of my favorite pianists and composers and this song just felt perfect considering the mood of this chapter)
> 
> Thanks again everyone for reading and all the support and comments!


	29. Allegro Molto Appassionato

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Father's day, Bruce! By my time I just barely made it, but alas Ao3's clock is ahead. Oh well, I tried, haha.

Bruce was in the concert hall when his phone went off. Not many competitors left before Damian and Jon’s performance.

Admittedly, Bruce wasn’t focused that night even though he’d come to hear his other students play as well.

In addition to supporting his son, Bruce also took notes for his accompanying students in order to help them improve.

Then again, Bruce was well aware this was an elimination contest, and only one team would move on to represent America in the upcoming international competition.

The pen in Bruce’s hand tapped restlessly against his notepad. There was nothing written. Bruce’s mind was too distracted by events from just the day before.

_‘Clark…’_

Then, as if conjured by his thoughts alone, Bruce’s cell began to vibrate. Normally he’d just ignore it until the end of the performance, but something told him to check it this time.

Bruce’s heart skipped when he immediately recognized the number.

He deleted Clark’s number after their argument, and despite being upset, he knew erasing the last traces of the man’s presence in his life was the only way he could truly move on. Besides, after the things he did, he thought Clark would never speak to him again, nonetheless call him.

Regardless, Bruce already had the man’s number memorized, and in the end, it was all pointless and just for show.

When Bruce saw the familiar ten digits, he felt a wave of elation wash over him. Was this perhaps hope?

Why was Bruce so excited? 

Of course, Clark was already at the theater supporting his son. Maybe he wanted to talk to Bruce again in person? Had he really not given up? 

This wasn’t something Bruce should feel happy about. If anything, he should’ve felt more apprehensive about answering, but regardless of all his reservations, he quickly got up and excused himself.

“Clark?” 

Bruce tried not to seem eager, which made him sound stiff instead. He hoped Clark didn’t notice, and when he heard the man’s voice he was certain he didn’t.

“Bruce” Clark’s shaky voice grated out.

Something was wrong.

All the fluttering in Bruce’s stomach was quickly traded for uneasiness.

“Clark, are you alright?”

“I…” the man choked, and then his voice faded and Bruce heard what sounded like muffled sobbing.

Bruce clutched his cellphone tighter. “Clark!” he called out with a bit more urgency. 

A sharp inhalation sounded back, and then Clark was clearing this throat and answering. “Bruce, I’m sorry, I…”

Clark’s voice faltered again.

Bruce bit down on his bottom lip. “Clark…”

There was another pause, and then Clark spoke with a steadier voice.

“I’m sorry I had to call you. I didn’t know Damian’s number, so I couldn’t think of anyone else to reach out to but you. I…”

The receiver fell quiet again, and Bruce heard strangled breaths in the background.

“Clark, please,” Bruce soothed back. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Jon was in a car accident,” Clark finally stumbled. Then Bruce heard some indiscernible words suffocated by sobs.

“What?!” 

Bruce nearly dropped his phone when he heard the news.

“I…” 

Clark was struggling to compose himself, and eventually tried to assure Bruce of all people. “He’s going to be alright. That is, he’s not in a life threatening condition.”

“Oh thank goodness,” Bruce sighed with relief.

“His hearing though…he didn’t even know the car was coming and he...” Clark trailed off for a moment before sucking in more life nurturing air. “Thankfully the driver was able to swerve in time so he only clipped Jon.”

Bruce felt Clark’s relief from the other end of the line. Of course, despite everything, he was still trying to focus on the good.

“He’s a bit bruised up now, and has a broken leg and some stitches, but he will…” 

Clark didn’t finish his thought and suddenly started to plead.

“Please apologize to Damian. I know right now that’s hurting Jon more than his injuries, and he…”

Clark’s voice cracked, and he broke down into tears again.

“I should’ve been there. Why didn't I go home last night…”

Bruce felt his heart sink and wished at that moment they weren’t miles apart, and he could physically comfort the man.

Forget about everything that happened between them. Bruce just wanted to hold Clark and ease all his suffering. 

In the end, the only thing he managed to do was hug his phone closer and whisper softly “Clark, this isn’t your fault. You can’t keep blaming yourself for these kinds of things. Just-”

“Bruce, I have to go now,” Clark abruptly interrupted. Then Bruce heard the sound of Clark talking to a nurse and the phone hung up.

“Clark…” Bruce murmured.

***************************************************************************

At this point, Damian was pacing.

_‘Where is he?’_

The boy stopped walking and looked up at the clock hanging just above the entrance for the hundredth time before letting out a sound of frustration.

_‘Just two more performances before our turn._

_I know Jon was upset with me but would he really…’_

Damian couldn’t even finish the thought. He didn’t even want to consider it.

A pang of worry and regret tugged at his chest, and Damian was suddenly clamping down on the front part of his jacket.

_‘I should have talked to him, but I was…_

_I just was not sure how to respond._

_If everything he said about my father is true, then…’_

Damian lowered his head and barely mumbled.

“What have I been doing all this time?”

His hand fisted, and he clenched his jaw.

_‘I know Jon idolizes father, but he isn’t the type to lie and more importantly Jon is my….’_

Now Damian was groaning and ruffling his fingers through his hair.

_‘I can’t believe I said those awful things! Accusing him of lying and saying he was anything less than my **only** friend._

_Of course he would be upset! He’s done nothing but put up with me all this time, and this is how a repay him!’_

Damian smiled weakly.

_‘Everyone else always turned away from me, but not Jon._

_Someone like me…with the way I treated him. I don’t deserve his friendship, and I really don’t blame him for being angry and not showing up.’_

Damian furiously shook his head.

_‘No! Jon would never do anything to jeopardize this competition for me. He is not like that._

_He will be here! I just know it! I just have to trust in him and-’_

“Damian.”

A voice suddenly broke through the boy’s plight and shook him back to reality.

It was the last person Damian ever expected to hear and in seconds his eyes were widening and he was turning around to face the man.

“Father?”

He blinked back wildly at the maestro towering behind him.

“What are you doing here?”

A woman suddenly appeared in the doorway.

“Mr. Al Ghul, your performance is next. Has your accompanist finally arrived?”

“I…” Damian paled. 

Why did his father have to arrive now of all times? What was he supposed to say? That Jon wasn’t there and hadn’t answered a single one of his messages. That once again, Damian had run off another one of the accompanist Bruce practically groomed for him.

“Yes, he has,” Bruce answered after Damian didn’t reply for several seconds.

“What?” The boy balked. He then started to search the room for Jon before Bruce clarified.

“I am his accompanist.”

“What!” Damian loudly blurted.

The woman looked a bit apprehensive, no doubt a product of Damian’s own startled outburst. 

Bruce didn’t break face, and his stoic and firm expression eventually calmed her reservations. 

“Good. We will call for you in just a few minutes. Please get your things together in the meantime.”

After that, the woman left.

“Father, I don’t understand…” the dazed Damian trailed.

Bruce’s features softened.

“Damian I know how important this competition is.” 

“You do?”

Bruce nodded “Yes, and I know you won’t qualify for nationals otherwise.”

“How do you…” 

Bruce started to adjust his cuffs and loosen his tie, and Damian knew the man was serious about his proposal.

“I know we’ve never practiced together before, but don’t worry. I’ve heard you play this piece several times now.”

“Y-you have?” Damian stammered. It was then that he remembered Jon’s revelation about Bruce attending all his performances.

_‘So it really was true…’_

“Also, I’m not wholly unfamiliar with this piece either,” Bruce added. 

“This is…” his eyes softened and Damian swore he saw a smile. 

“This is the first song I ever performed with your mother.”

“Really?!”

Damian had picked the piece because it was an ideal competition selection, but at the same time, his motivation had also been influenced by his mother mentioning this as her favorite piece.

Never before had the woman ever mentioned emotional attachment for any song. Could this be the reason why?

Was his mother and father’s marriage not as cold and meaningless as his grandfather depicted? Was he truly not just a child simply born out of duty and convenience? 

“Mr. Al Ghul. We’re ready for you now” the woman from earlier announced.

The boy was afflicted and at a complete loss. His mind was whirling with a thousand conflictions and his heart was beating so rapidly he couldn’t breathe.

“Damian,” Bruce lulled. He then knelt down so their eyes were level and softly assured. “We can do this.”

He held Damian’s small hands inside his own large ones and squeezed them. “Together.”

Warmth flooded Damian at the point of contact, and suddenly all his doubts were erased and he could breathe.

“Father…”

************************************************************

To say he was worried was an understatement.

Damian had never heard his father play before and had no idea what his style was like.

Needless to say, he heard the stories. Grayson would never shut up about his father’s abilities, and even his mother seemed to get a wistful look in her eyes when she talked about performing with him. 

Also, the fact that his own grandfather, the man who apparently held a grudge against his father was able to praise Bruce’s skills, there was no doubt Bruce was a pianist unlike any other. It was for this reason Damian was always intimidated, and now, for the first time ever, Damian would not only hear him play but perform alongside him.

Damian was never afraid to play on stage. That type of fear had been extinguished out of him after years of practice and training with his mother and grandfather.

So why now, during one of the most important competitions in his young career did his palms feel clammy and his stomach queasy?

The stage lights were blinding, and he couldn’t see the audience. With each step, he felt his strides shorten. 

Damian was pointlessly trying to delay the inevitable. 

There was no doubting this feeling. He was terrified.

If only he knew how much of a wreck his father was.

_‘I…I **can’t** do this.’_

Bruce looked at his trembling fingers hovering over the keys. There was no way he could play in such a state, not when he couldn’t even steady his hands.

Also, how many years had it been since he played on the stage, or even played this song for that matter?

Bruce inhaled sharply and lowered his head till it was nearly touching the piano.

_‘I’m going to let another one of them down. I’m going to fail again. I’m going to let Damian down **again**.’_

Bruce felt his body shutting down and despite the heat from the lights above him, he felt cold and shaky.

_‘Bruce, it’s going to be okay.’_

The maestro’s heart thumped hard against his chest. The voice he just heard. Who was it? It was so faint and distant, yet warm and familiar.

Was it someone from his past? Was it just his imagination?

Whatever or whoever it was, Bruce felt his heart and body still, and all his fear and apprehension disappeared.

_‘That’s right, Bruce. You know this song well. You’ve played it before. You’ve heard it a hundred times. You’ve studied the notes, instructed Jon and many others. You know this song._

_This was **our** song…’_

Bruce straightened back up. 

_‘I told Damian we could do this together. He’s put his faith in me.’_

Bruce looked back at Damian and smiled.

_‘I can’t fail him again. I won’t!’_

Damian wasn’t sure why Bruce smiled at him, but the resolved shape charting his lips wiped Damian free from any fear and apprehension.

He then cleared his mind and readied his bow. Finally Damian was ready to play.

He signaled Bruce with a nod, and the maestro immediately understood.

The piano serenaded the audience with the trill of a quick introduction. Less than a few seconds later the violin followed.

It was fast and sweet, whirring and singing while Damian’s bow and fingers moved effortlessly across each string.

Together they played in perfect time, the piano accompanying the violin’s lovely sounds.

Then it happened, Damian took off. This was the point in the song when the violin took true command.

Bruce was stunned. 

He knew well the level of his son’s talent, a true Al Ghul violinist by more than just right. Despite his young age, Damian played with the experience of veterans twice his age. No doubt he’d probably played as many hours as them too.

Still, to sit beside Damian and experience it firsthand, to feel the resonating notes so strong and in control.

There was a pause, a moment where Bruce didn’t play, and all he could do was listen and be completely mesmerized and absorbed by the notes.

The violin finally took a break, and Bruce’s piano echoed after him.

At this point, that was all he could really do. 

Feebly Bruce mirrored Damian’s song.

Really, though, this was Bruce’s purpose, to just chase after Damian and nothing more, right?

_‘Wrong.’_

Bruce shook his head.

As a maestro, he knew better.

_‘The definition of accompanying means to be someone’s companion and escort. To put it even more frank, it means to be present at the same time and same place.’_

These were Bruce’s words when Jon first expressed his concern about being Damian’s permanent accompanist.

_‘I’m not good enough maestro. I can’t keep up’ Jon whined._

_‘Then get better. Otherwise you have no business accompanying Damian. Not if you only intend to chase after him and weigh him down.’_

This was exactly what Bruce was doing. 

Years of disuse and fear of the piano was holding Bruce back. How could he reach Damian like this? Rather than stand side by side and hold his hand, Bruce was chasing after Damian just like he’d always done. 

He had to do better than this. If he couldn’t reach Damian with his words, then he had to use his heart, and the piano was the only instrument he had left to his soul. 

Damian felt the mood change immediately after he finished the second theme. Its tranquil melody had only been the misleading calm before the storm, and when the tempest returned it raged from the piano instead.

Damian hadn’t slowed down at all in the slightest when the song transitioned back to its rapid frenetic pace, so then why did he feel like he was losing momentum? 

No, it wasn’t Damian who was receding, but rather Bruce who was finally catching up.

Was this really the music of a man who hadn’t played this song in more than thirteen years? 

_‘It’s not possible.’_

Damian was amazed, but he couldn’t lose face. He realized now Bruce was finally playing alongside him, and if he continued to progress at this pace, Damian would be left behind.

Bruce could tell Damian picked up on change. 

Bruce was no longer dogging behind him, and the boy could finally play to his fullest capabilities and no matter where that might be, Bruce would accompany and magnify Damian’s radiance.

_‘That’s right, I’m here with you. I will support you not from behind, but together right beside you.’_

Damian’s chest was tight and his breaths started to shorten. He had to maintain proper breath control in order to get past the next part, but at the same time, he felt his body and mind aching.

What was Bruce trying to convey to him? What was this feeling welling up inside him? Damian felt it, but couldn’t understand it. The feeling was so foreign yet warm.

The next part was always difficult. This was where he had to play alone.

The piano fell silent, but Damian still felt Bruce’s presence. It was strong and encouraging, like a father reaching his hand out and waiting patiently for his son’s return.

_‘Father…’_

Damian didn’t care anymore if he was playing the song with its precise intent and accuracy.

Of course, this mentality was the key to winning and the reason Damian could always perform so expertly. He only had to mimic the emotions of the writer and never made the song his own. 

However, at this moment in time, he could only see the image of his father, and Damian was desperately calling out for him. 

Bruce heard it, and he couldn’t contain himself any longer. The moment the violin paused, and it was his turn to answer, Bruce was pouring out his heart.

_‘Damian…’_

Could Damian hear it? Could he feel it?

Why was Bruce even questioning it? 

He felt it so near and clear, the connection of their hearts finally aligning after so many years of separation. Bruce only felt it once before. The time when he first held Damian, first saw his smile, first heard his laugh.

Where did it all go wrong? When did they lose their way?

_‘I’m sorry Damian. I won’t ever leave you alone again.’_

__

__

_‘Father…’_

Tears were collecting in the corners of Damian’s eyes. They were fast approaching the finale, and Damian didn’t want it to end.

Back forth, side by side, together they played like two worlds colliding, coming together and creating one perfect song. 

Completely in harmony, completely attune, faster the notes ricocheted gathering speed. 

No longer a mere follower Bruce became Damian’s support rather than his echo, and Damian was playing like he never played before.

With such an impenetrable foundation underneath his feet, Damian was lifted higher and to further heights than he’d ever known.

Damian knew the end was near, but he wanted to, no, he had to reveal everything in his heart. 

Just as Bruce laid bare his soul, Damian’s final notes cried out the song of his heart until the final string strummed and sounded the air.

All the weight, all the pressure, with dramatic thundering the piano closed the song.

The entire hall fell quiet, and for a brief moment, the only thing Bruce could hear was the beating of his heart still perfectly aligned with Damian. 

Truly this was what it meant to be in complete harmony and everything in Bruce’s word was _‘Perfect,’_ the maestro sighed.

Eventually the stricken audience regained composure and the theater came alive.

***********************************************************

The applause could still be heard from the back stage; a standing ovation, even from the judges.

Bruce’s pulse was racing and his ears were drumming.

How many years had it been since he felt this sensation? Of course, Damian was the star, but to perform on the stage again with the lights on his back. He could still remember the sensation of the floor rumbling while the piano reverberated against his fingers and soles.

Then there was the connection between him and Damian that was still shaking his heart and hands.

Bruce looked in his son's direction. There were a few attendants still congratulating Damian, and several of his competitors watching with rightful intimidation. 

This was Bruce’s chance to disappear without anyone noticing. Typically this would’ve been his action.

It’s not as though his son would thank him for the bail out. He never did before. Then again, Bruce didn’t do things for Damian expecting any kind of gratitude or validation. He just wanted to help and support his son any way he could. Even if someone like Bruce could never do right by another person, he still wanted to do everything he could.

At first, Bruce didn’t understand why he stuck around. He didn’t even know what to say to Damian. 

When he played beside him, his heart knew what to do, and he hoped in some small way Damian understood Bruce’s thoughts through his performance. 

It’d been so long since Bruce consciously used the piano as a means to relay his feelings. All those other times before, none of those relationships lasted.

It made Bruce afraid and his chest ached knowing that despite pouring out his heart and soul, it’d never been enough. 

That’s why he gave up trying. What was the point?

Finally Damian was being relieved of all the attention.

Just a few more seconds and he would turn around.

The maestro wanted run, his instincts were screaming for him to flee, and just as he felt his body move, he remembered Clark’s words.

_‘Rather than face your problems you always run away…_

_…at the rate you’re going, you won’t ever face your son.’_

_‘Why do you keep running away?!’_

Damian nearly flinched when he saw Bruce. He really didn’t expect the man to be standing there when he turned around.

For a few moments, azure met a complementary blue decorated lighter by a faint hue of emerald.

They were both silent, but the longing reflecting back from their eyes was shining in both directions.

Bruce was the first to speak. Once again, he crouched down so their faces were level.

“Damian…”Bruce’s voice sounded small, but he hoped Damian could hear it. “I’m sorry.”

There was no reaction from the boy, but his eyes didn’t leave Bruce.

Bruce’s hands were shaking, and he slightly hid them behind his back.

The maestro wanted nothing more than to turn his gaze away, but he remained steadfast and continued.

“All this time, I knew I should’ve been the one to accompany you, but because of my fear and selfishness, I pushed the responsibility on so many others and forced you to struggle…”

Still no response.

Bruce swallowed hard on the dry lump burning his throat. His voice felt raspy when he spoke.

“I see now where I went wrong…it was because…”

Bruce’s mouth stretched into rueful smile. How had Clark seen so deep into his heart, revealing to Bruce the things even he’d been blind to?

“I was afraid,” Bruce finally admitted. Then like a flood his thoughts poured freely.

“I was afraid to let another person down, afraid if I got closer, you would see me for who I really am. That it would only drive you even further away, and I’d lose you completely…

But I know now, the way I’ve been going on, too terrified to act. I can’t let my fear and inaction ruin my relationship with another person I love and hold dear.”

“Father?” Damian blinked when Bruce revealed his trembling hands and reached for him.

“Damian, I know I’m not a worthwhile person and even more so a worthless father. All those times I should’ve been there for you, should’ve fought harder, but I promise if you give me another chance, I will do everything in my power to make things right between us.

So please…” Bruce stopped moving but his arms were still outstretched.

“Even though I know I don’t deserve to ask, won’t you please forgive me?

Can’t I…can’t we start over from the beginning?”

Damian felt his mouth tremble and he silently murmured. “Father…”

Bruce was waiting. The last bit of space between them, he understood what it meant.

Bruce had already covered half the distance, maybe even more, but the rest was up to Damian.

A wave of heat Damian couldn’t quite understand washed over him, and he closed his eyes tight. 

It wasn’t fair. How could Bruce just ask him to forget the last thirteen years like they never happened?

How many times did Damian wonder what he did wrong? Why Damian always seemed to fall short of Bruce’s students? Why he hadn’t been a worthwhile enough son to fight for. Why Bruce hadn’t tried harder? 

Didn’t Bruce understand? So many years he’d been abandoned. So much so, Damian completely hardened his heart to escape the pain and loss.

The weight of Damian’s body bowed and weighed heavily on his back leg. He was about to retreat, but then he heard a voice in his mind and his heart froze him in place.

_‘You haven’t been alone all this time!_

_…you’d rather keep your eyes closed and be mad…’_

_‘Maestro cares about you.’_

Damian’s eyes suddenly flew open and a well of tears outpoured. Then without any reservations, Damian did something he yearned to do for more years than he could count. 

“Father!”

Bruce didn’t even hesitate when the boy sprang forward and landed in his arms.

Bruce squeezed Damian tightly, and just like the first moment he held his son in his arms, Bruce felt the beat of his heart return.

To Be Continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Father’s Day, Bruce! 
> 
> This was unintentional, but could not have been more perfectly timed.
> 
> I was working on this chapter, and then I remembered I needed to call my dad, and when I got back, I realized I was writing **this** chapter on Father’s day!
> 
> Needless to say, I spent the rest of the day trying desperately to finish. I know the day is almost over (and for some countries and timezones it has), and there are probably a ton of mistakes, but here you finally have Bruce and Damian’s resolution. 
> 
> Of course, these two won’t be fixed over night, but at least now they’ve gotten past the hardest part and can finally look towards building a true relationship.
> 
> So happy those Kents could help push them past their stubbornness. 
> 
> Chapter title is named after the song Bruce and Damian played together.
> 
> Mendelssohn’s _Violin Concerto in E minor, Op. 64, First movement aka Allegro Molto Appassionato (very fast and passionate):_ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5qPz3ScijBc
> 
> I just thought the ups and downs of this song were a perfect reflection, and I can also imagine this as the song Bruce and Talia played together. In a side story I wrote, Bruce admits to eventually having feelings for Talia (they just were not enough to keep them together), and I can just imagine the first time they played together was when he truly realized them, and hey, to be even more cliché, let’s say finally emotionally connecting by playing this “very fast and passionate” piece led to Damian’s conception ;)
> 
> In any case, this song seemed fitting for both Talia and Bruce and Damian and Bruce.
> 
> Okay, well, I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. Bruce and Damian finally made amends, and Jon is safe (for the most part)! Now I need to work on the remaining resolutions ;)
> 
> Thanks for reading and once again thanks for all the support and comments!


	30. Poco allegretto (Little Liar)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the incredibly delayed update. I was actually pretty busy working on my fic for the Superbat Big Bang, and afterwards I was completely exhausted and needed to take a week off writing. The bang, for the most part, was a fun experience but admittedly the hardest I can remember ever working on a fic.
> 
> Haha, I guess when I really think about it, collectively this fic has been its own labor of love. It's been ongoing for nearly a year (10months, WOW). Well, it's finally drawing close to a finale, and I thank everyone from the deepest part of my heart for sticking with this story and these characters for so long. I really hope the ending will be worth the wait!

His chest slightly fluttered when he entered the room before slowing down to a staccato parallel to the beeps.

His friend looked so small next to all the machines, their soft luminous glow the only thing lighting the room and surrounding him.

He swallowed on the knot in his throat. It was a dry lump.

After willing enough nerve, he forcibly exhaled and pushed past it to speak.

“Jon…” Damian murmured. His voice sounded weaker than all the electric noise.

Jon didn’t respond and his attention remained fixated out the window he was looking at.

Damian’s brow furled, and he looked up at the man standing next to him.

“He can’t hear me?”

The corner of Clark’s mouth twitched as though he were forcing something back but his mouth remained still. “No.”

Clark saw Damian’s body tense and his face stitched tighter. Sensing the boy’s unease Clark smiled weakly and offered a small consolation.

“He does know sign language. If you need to tell him anything, I can interpret it for you.”

For a moment, Damian’s eyes lit up before instantly darkening again.

“I…no, it’s fine,” he answered. He then looked shamefully towards the ground. “Anything I needed to say should have been said before.”

“Damian…” Clark mumbled. The typically headstrong and proud violinist looked so broken it hurt.

Feeling he needed to do something, Clark took a step forward and lightly patted Jon on the back.

Jon flinched a little and seemed a bit dazed by his father’s sudden appearance.

Damian saw Jon’s worn features and felt his chest wind tighter.

Clark knelt down beside his son and started to sign. _/Jon, your friend is here/_

Jon’s eyes widened. He then looked past his father and met Damian’s gaze.

Damian’s breath hitched and his heart jerked violently to a halt when he saw Jon. His typically vibrant azures were pale blue and distressed to an almost white hue.

Damian started to open his mouth to speak before realizing his short sightedness and gritting.

Jon quickly turned away from him and lowered his head.

 _/Jon, there’s nothing to be ashamed of/_ Clark tried to assure.

The boy just shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut.

Clark felt like crying, but kept his tears at bay. Right now neither boy needed a weepy Clark. He had to stay strong. He had to maintain his tireless façade.

At this point, Jon’s fists were balled so tightly he was shaking. Clark took each one of his tiny hands and folded them tightly in his own large palms. Jon’s trembling settled, but he still kept his eyes low.

Damian helplessly watched the exchange before Clark turned his attention back to him.

“I’m sorry, Damian. Jon still doesn’t feel well, maybe if you come back later-”

“No!” Damian instantly blurted.

He then felt his cheeks heat up with embarrassment. Sure the proper course would be to respect Jon’s wishes, but Damian wasn’t feeling proper at all. If anything, he was desperate.

Clark was at a loss as he watched the furiously blushing boy stammer back.

“I…that is…I am fine with waiting. I will wait here until he feels better, and if he still does not…I will wait until he does.”

“Damian…” For the first time that night Clark genuinely smiled. “Okay, well, I need to step away for a bit,” he lied. He then pulled up a nearby chair next to Jon’s bed and motioned Damian towards it.

Reluctantly Damian accepted Clark’s offer and sat down.

“If you need anything, just give me a call,” Clark said while holding up his phone.

Damian just nodded. He then listened for Clark’s retreating footsteps and the eventual sound of the door closing behind him.

A long moment of silence passed.

Jon was staring down at his own lap and refusing to look Damian in the eye.

Damian wasn’t sure what to do. He knew he couldn’t communicate with Jon properly anymore, but even despite this knowledge he still had so much he wanted to say.

“Jon…” Damian murmured.

His throat burned when he spoke as if his own words were strangling him, but he had to push past the pain. His chest was so tight. If he held back any longer, it was sure to explode.

“If you think I am upset you missed our competition, you are wrong,” Damian exhaled while closing his eyes. “Father ended up stepping in.”

A small expression of contentment took his lips.

“I couldn’t believe he would do such a thing. So many of his students begged him to play with them, even his prodigy Grayson, yet no matter who asked, father always refused…”

Damian reopened his eyes, and he was surprised to see Jon looking back at him intently.

The tautness in Damian’s chest eased. He wasn’t sure what kind of look he was giving Jon, but he was happy the color in his eyes was returning.

Realizing this, something liberating took Damian, and then like a brook, his thoughts began to babble.

“Jon, you were right. I never gave my father a chance. I just settled on being upset with him instead.”

“I was so angry, and I refused to forgive him, but being honest now, I know I did it because it was simpler to blame him for everything because…”

Damian’s voice began to break and his face crumpled.

“…I was afraid…” he chocked while squeezing his eyes shut. “I was afraid if father got any closer he would not find me worthwhile, that I on my own am simply not enough.”

Damian willed back oncoming tears.

Hearing everything for the first time, both in his mind and in his heart, it was almost too much.

Doubts he refused to acknowledge, shameful feelings he tucked away, but with each passing sentence his heart felt more at peace. Somehow speaking to Jon, looking into those awe inspiring eyes only encouraged Damian further.

A few more moments passed. Damian looked down at his callous fingers before finally sighing out.

“Without my abilities as a violinist, I am nothing, just an insufferable child…”

He clenched jaw.

“But father plays the piano, not the violin, so why would someone like me matter to him? Just thinking about these things, I was…”

Damian paused, and suddenly he remembered all his feelings from the moment he first met Jon.

“I was incredibly jealous,” he admitted.

“Why does father get along so well with his students but not me? If I played the piano rather than the violin would he given me more notice?”

Damian knew his question quite literally fell on deaf ears, but for some reason Jon was looking at him with a deceptively understanding gaze.

It was almost as if he recognized what he was saying, but Damian knew he was only fooling himself. If anything, Jon was only confused by all the strange faces he was making.

Damian let out another defeated sound. It didn’t really matter. Just Jon’s presence alone was enough.

“I see now,” Damian nodded. “After meeting someone like you…I see now where I fall short...”

He helplessly smiled and Jon’s expression softened.

“How easily you can forgive and love your father. Even despite the predicament you are in.”

“Then I look at my on transgressions, and I see just how petty and childish I am…Rather than admit my own fault, I was content with forging a wider rift, hiding and running away from the truth…”

The gentleness faded from Damian’s face but his eyes were still tender.

“After our performance tonight, my father finally spoke to me. Not just through his music, but also with his words…”

Damian moved a hand to his chest. Just the memory alone of their performance together left warmth inside him.

“To think, all this time…how similar our feelings have been.”

Damian laughed, and it was a mix of happiness and regret.

“I feel even more foolish now that I realize the truth. How many years did we waste? How long did we constantly miss each other while walking the same path?”

He looked straight back into Jon’s glistening sapphires. The other boy’s gaze was fixed on Damian as if he were hanging on his every word.

It almost made Damian laugh again. All those times Jon was willing to listen, and now that he couldn’t anymore, Damian wanted nothing more than to be heard.

“None of that matters now,” Damian muttered. “As father said, it is in the past, and now we can start over, and this time,” his mouth formed a determined arc. “I won’t miss my opportunity.”

Jon’s own lips turned to a smile. Damian felt a little tortured by it. More than likely Jon was just mimicking Damian’s expression as some form of condolence.

Of course Jon was trying to comfort him, even though the one who needed it most right now was him.

After their performance together, Damian felt like he was on top of the world. He didn’t care about his score. He knew he didn’t play the song the same way he practiced it. In that moment in time, the only thing he cared about was making his feelings known to his father, and for the first time, winning no longer mattered.

Then again, what Damian got back in return was so much greater than all the trophies and titles in the world.

He felt it, everything, Bruce’s pain, his regret, his sorrow, his _promise_. Damian understood it all.

Now everything Jon told him before made so much sense. There really was more to music than simply performing.

If not for his violin, if not for Bruce’s piano, would either of them ever reached the other? Would they have found the courage or the words to cross the boundaries of their hearts?

“Jon,” Damian whispered. “If not for you, I never would have opened my heart. I…before I met you, the only thing I cared about was performing for my own self gain. I didn’t even try to understand anyone’s feeling’s but my own.”

Without thinking Damian reached a hand over and placed it in Jon’s lap.

He knew Jon couldn’t hear him, but he didn’t care. He wanted Jon’s undivided attention and this was the only way he knew how to reach him.

The moment contact was made, Jon’s eyes glossed over, and he looked at Damian with pure blue question.

Something trembled in Damian’s chest and it started to make his voice shake.

“Coming to know you, I was always so confused. I didn’t understand someone like you at all. Everything about you was so different from me.”

He started to ball up his hand as he remembered all his frustration.

“The way you view the world, the way you perceive music, the way you play your song…” Damian’s grip eased and his volume started to dwindle. “The way you love, the way you laugh….your smile…”

Damian’s shoulders fell.

“When it comes to playing skill, I surpass you by far, but whenever we play together, I always feel… _defeated_.”

Once again, Damian accepted another one of his fears. Growing up as an Al Ghul, he was taught failure was never an option, but now he realized how shortsighted those thoughts really were.

If anything, losing meant there was always something greater for him to achieve. That the one who defeated him was someone he could truly admire and aspire to be.

Damian’s smile lifted at the realization.

The pain of defeat really didn’t hurt as much when the person beating him was Jon.

“Only time and experience you lack, but in no time you would have mastered your skills and surpassed me in every aspect.”

The words struck Damian hard and he felt the tremor move past his throat and sting his eyes.

_‘Would’ve.’_

Damian shook the stray thought away. He really didn’t want to think about that now. For Jon’s sake he couldn’t. For Jon’s sake he had to be strong.

“Looking at your passion, I want to change to. I want to understand and know what you know.

When I played with you, I always felt glimpses of it, and because of that fact, I truly feel I was able to convey my feelings to my father both in song and with words.

Being able to play with him, it was more than a dream come true, and yet, despite how marvelously we performed…”

Damian stopped.

He couldn’t contain it anymore.

It wasn’t fair. Why now?  After it was already too late, why did Damian finally realize his feelings?

The tears breaching his eyes finally spilled, and he cried out with frustration.

“I thought I wanted nothing more in this world than to be accepted for my abilities and have father finally notice me, but now…”

Damian grabbed both of Jon’s hands and with all the desperation in his heart he hoped and prayed Jon could hear him.

“Jon, there is only room in my heart for one partner. _You_ are my accompanist, and I won’t forgive you if you abandon me now!”

Sure what he was saying, all his anger and frustration was misguided and irrational, but Damian didn’t care.

“Please Jon,” he begged while sobbing without restraint. “No matter what, even though you can no longer hear my voice or my song, I want you to know you are my accompanist first and forever.

“Damian!” Jon cried before he burst into tears and hugged him.

Damian accepted his embrace without hesitation, and with that act alone, he finally understood.

Even without words or any instruments, there were many ways one could convey their feelings to the person that they loved.

***************************************************************

Clark smiled to himself as he watched the exchange through the window of the door.

Despite everything, Jon and Damian would get through this, and right now, more than anything, Jon needed a true friend.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee pulled Clark from his thoughts.

That’s when he noticed a certain maestro standing next to him gesturing a cup.

“Bruce.”

Clark’s heart raced, but he didn’t let his expression show it.

“Clark,” Bruce answered while handing him the cup.

Clark reluctantly accepted the offer.

The smell of sweet mocha and caramel wafted in the air.

_‘Just the way I like it…’_

Clark’s face heated at the thought. Realizing this, he instantly brought the cup to his lips so Bruce couldn’t see it. The cup remained there longer than necessary before Bruce finally spoke.

“I wonder…” the maestro mumbled as he watched the boys thoughtfully. “Does Jon read lips?”

“Uh, yeah,” Clark answered while adjusting his steamy glasses. “I’m not sure how well, but I get the feeling he picked up the skill pretty well by now.”

“I see…” Bruce hummed.

Clark’s eyes widened with realization.

“I should’ve mentioned that to Damian.”

“No,” Bruce nodded with a slight shoulder shrug. “I think it’s better this way…”

“Yeah, I think so too…” Clark lightly chuckled.

“I’m sorry about the way things turned out…” Bruce apologized. His eyes then enlarged, and he quickly explained. “For Mr. Kent, that is...”

Clark shook his head dismissively.

“It’s nothing for you to apologize for. Everything that’s happening right now, there’s really only one person to blame…”

Bruce saw Clark’s grim expression through the corner of his eye. Clark’s royals were still veiled by the fog misting his spectacles, but Bruce didn’t need to see them. He could already imagine how dark they were now.

“How long have you known?”

Clark’s nose wrinkled with confusion. “What?”

“That Mr. Kent’s hearing was failing.”

Clark grimaced.

“It definitely explains his frequent hospital visits,” Bruce knowingly added. “Even I noticed the subtle differences in his level of alertness, though the boy hides it well with his inane ability to adapt. Still, if I his instructor noticed, then surely his doting father must’ve known.”

Clark looked dejectedly down at his cup and mumbled.

“They said the chances were 50/50.”

“And despite the possibility of him going completely deaf, you still took a gamble on his musical career?”

Clark didn’t miss the sharp curtness in Bruce’s voice.

He finally looked back at the maestro and frowned.

“I _had_ to. It’s what Jon loves and wanted, but now…”

“It’s heartbreaking.” Bruce finished.

Clark just stared at him wordlessly till Bruce forced his eyes back on Jon and sighed.

“Had he never known the world of music, he probably would’ve been better off. Now the thing he loves dearly was cruelly taken from him.”

Clark felt something heated boil inside him.

“So you think he’d be better off never loving music at all?”

“It would’ve been simpler,” Bruce replied. 

“Figures _you_ would say something like that,” Clark scowled.

He then set the coffee down. All the amiable feelings the gesture once brought were now being replaced with a cruel reminder of who the maestro really was.

 “Tell me Bruce,” Clark asked while narrowing his glare. “Because I know you understand more than anyone else.”

Bruce readied himself, but still wasn’t prepared when he heard Clark’s words.

“Is it really better to _survive_ this world than actually _live_ in it?”

Bruce’s breath hitched. He then opened his mouth to retaliate but couldn’t think of a single retort.

Clark almost laughed when he saw Bruce’s warped expression. It would’ve been so easy to kick him while he was down, but Clark didn’t want to hurt Bruce. If anything, he pitied him.

Realizing this, Clark felt his anger subside, and he quietly replied.

“I admit, this world is full of nothing but pain and tragedy, and it’s so easy just to want to give up, but I…we can’t lose hope, and that’s why we won’t.”

Bruce quirked his head. “ _We_?”

 Something akin to hope quickened his heart.

“Jon and I,” Clark clarified. “We’ll be moving to Central city after he’s released from the hospital.”

Panic flared.

“What?”

“There's a research facility there, S.T.A.R labs. They’ve been working on an experimental new procedure that might be able to help someone like Jon. Of course, they said the chances are slim to none, 10% at best, but even if it's just 1%,” Clark smiled at Bruce and though it looked tired, Bruce knew he was resolved.

“We have to take it.”

Bruce still didn't respond and for a moment Clark seemed uneasy but quickly covered his unrest with a loose chuckle and shrugged. 

 “Sure telling Jon all of this might needlessly give him hope, and maybe he’ll only end up being crushed again by failure, but that’s just the nature of hoping, and no matter how this all ends, Jon and I will get through this together.”

“Ah-” Bruce started before clenching his jaw tight. He really wasn’t sure what to say but honestly felt as though he didn’t have the right to speak.

A clear blue hue of sympathy reflected back at Bruce before Clark was reaching his hand forward and holding it out.

Bruce seemed confused by the movement before he realized what was happening.

“With that being said, I guess I should tell you this properly…” Clark waited for Bruce to respond.

“I wish…no, I think things are better this way…makes everything _simpler_.”

“Clark…” Bruce mumbled. Then despite himself he accepted Clark’s hand.

The shake was brusque and completely detached. There were no feelings behind it at all. Just a cordial departure, a meaningless farewell, and Bruce never felt emptier in his life.

“In any case…” Clark mumbled as he started to make his way back into Jon’s room. “Good bye, Bruce.”

To Be Continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm happy Jon and Damian are finally able to work through their issues, and despite what Jon's future has in store, Damian will always be there for him. 
> 
> As for their idiot fathers, as I mentioned many chapters ago, adults always find a way to make things more complicated and difficult! Clark's finally tired of chasing after Bruce, and Bruce has so many regrets. You two dummies!
> 
> I had trouble picking a song that encompassed the emotional level for this entire chapter, so I just went with one that fit the second half. 
> 
> So here is Johannes Brahms Symphony No. 3 _Poco allegretto (Little Liar)_ : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eYmzwg6CFG0
> 
> Once again, thanks for reading and supporting this fic! I realize now everyone's encouragement is really what kept this fic going so long (wow, I still can't believe I didn't realize I'd been writing this for so long, haha).


	31. Consolation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blushing Damian may have been added at the last min ;)

His mouth was spread wide with a gigantic smile, one stretching vaster than the expanse of his face.

After rereading the last message, he finally shut his laptop and made a pleased sound. His sender always made a point to get the last word, but he really didn’t care. Not when the last thing written always left his lips lifting.

Clark instantly recognized the expression when Jon walked into the kitchen.

He got the boy's attention by signing with his hands.

/You must’ve been chatting with Damian again/

Somehow Jon’s grin grew larger /Yeah/

After moving to Central city, Jon spent many nights typing away at his computer or phone.

Initially he was disheartened by their move. He knew he couldn’t accompany Damian anymore, but no longer being able to see him either only made the situation bitterer.

That is until Clark suggested they exchange contact information. After that, the separation really wasn’t as bad as Jon expected. If anything, Damian was more open over a computer screen than he’d ever been in person.

Perhaps his senior was a little shyer than he let on. This seemed evident after Damian practically shoved Jon out of his hospital bed when he discovered Jon could read lips.

Jon would never forget the pink flush behind Damian’s ears as he immediately hid his face away so Jon wouldn’t see his blush. After that, it was just a barrage of angry shouts directed at a boy who for once was thankful he couldn’t hear anything.

After that, Jon felt their friendship deepen even more.

It was disappointing that Jon could no longer support Damian at his competitions, but he still enjoyed talking to Damian about other things. Those mainly centering on Damian’s recent relationship with his dad. It was the most vulnerable and insecure Damian ever revealed himself to be, and made Jon view his friend in a whole different light.

They really seemed to have more in common than Jon first believed, and Jon was happy he could find other ways to help and encourage his friend.

He also appreciated how Damian always seemed to find time for him even despite his busy schedule. Going completely deaf, this new life should’ve felt much more alienating.

Jon often had nightmares whenever he thought about it, just like the night he awoke to a worried Damian in his bed, and just like that night, Damian was there to rescue him.

Now Jon didn’t feel the pangs of loneliness anymore. Not when he had his dad and friend by his side.

Sure he couldn’t communicate with his words, but at least he was still able to talk to the people he cared about most, and to Jon, that meant more to him than the world.

/How’s he doing/ Clark asked as he tore Jon from his musings.

Jon’s smile slightly faltered, but his recovery was quick and genuine.

/Well, Damian’s actually returning home soon. Unfortunately he was eliminated in the second round/

Clark looked at Jon with honest sympathy. He knew how competitive Damian was.

/That’s too bad/ he managed to condole.

/Yeah. I wanted to cheer him up, but I don’t think he really needs it/

Clark quirk his head. “Oh?”

Jon read Clark’s lips and nodded with understanding at his dad’s confusion.

/Yeah, I thought losing would get to him too, but I think it only fired him up more. He even told me he was glad he could finally face challenges worthy of his time and didn’t have to bored anymore/

/That sounds like something he would say/ Clark replied while chuckling.

/Yeah, and he said the coaching he’s been getting from Maestro has helped him improve also/

Clark’s felt his chest twist at the mention of Bruce and suddenly all the warmth left his face.

Jon blinked at his dad with question. Of course he noticed even the slightest change in Clark's demeanor. The boy was always attentive and watching the people around him.

Clark forced a smile he hoped would be enough to assure Jon. Luckily it seemed to be, and the boy continued on with his explanation.

/It’s okay. I’m really happy for Damian. He also said that I need to hurry back and his new accompanist is only keeping my place warm/

“Jon…” Clark mumbled.

Now Jon was the one with the darkening eyes, but his smile somehow remained.

Clark understood the expression well. The look of someone trying their hardest to have faith and believe in something, but still being weighed down by so many lingering fears and doubts.

/Damian always has so much confidence. I wish.../ Jon’s hands faltered.

He lowered his head.

Clark started to reach out to him, but Jon suddenly whipped his face back up and shook it vigorously.

/I can’t give up no matter what/ He declared with a renew sense of determination.

Clark smiled

/That’s right/

Jon grinned at his dad, and Clark felt all his previous worry wash away. His son really was much stronger that he gave himself credit for.

/I can’t hear anymore, but that won’t stop me/ Jon continued to profess /also many of the things Maestro taught me, I don’t have to. It’s almost as if he knew to prepare me for this day. I’m so glad I had him as my maestro/

_‘Bruce…’_

Once again, there was an ache in Clark's chest. Then a deep rooted longing he thought was buried away caused him to ask.

/Speaking of your maestro. Did Damian say anything about…/

Clark’s fingers stopped moving.

/Dad?/

Clark smiled and nodded.

/Never mind. It’s nothing. So, what do you want for dinner?/

*************************************************************

“It seems as though you finally made it home in one piece,” a voice purred behind the maestro.

Bruce slowly turned to face the woman. “Selina…”

She stood with poised confidence at the doorway of the practice room. Bruce’s eyes couldn’t help but draw a line up the sleek curvature of her form fitting pantsuit.

She smiled at the attention.

“How was your trip?”

When he heard her voice, Bruce realized what he was unconsciously doing. He quickly tore his eyes away and grunted while adjusting his tie.

“For the most part, it was fine. Though I will admit, traveling abroad is much more tiring than I remembered.”

“Yeah, I guess you aren’t so use to it anymore,” she shrugged. “And you definitely aren’t getting any younger.”

“Says the older woman,” Bruce smirked back.

Selina glared at Bruce with flaring challenge. 

“A secret I’ve kept well, so don’t even think about opening that cheeky mouth of yours.”

Bruce didn’t back down.

“Well with the way you can spin a lie, no one would believe me anyways.”

Selina couldn’t help but curl her lips. It’d been a long time since Bruce was so playful with her.

Before she could never get him to even talk to her. Not unless it involved his son, and she knew it was no coincidence the maestro always avoided her hallway. What had suddenly changed between them?

“You say that as if it’s a bad thing.” Selina finally quipped back.

Bruce just answered her gesture with a loose chuckle.

She sighed. As much as she was enjoying their game, she knew it wouldn't last and there were other things on her mind.

“Well, it seems like my prickly little apprentice has finally tasted real defeat.” Her mouth formed a satisfied smirk. “Good, it’s about time he got knocked down a few pegs.”

“You’re such an encouraging instructor.” Bruce monotonously replied.

Selina didn’t miss his sarcastic tone.

“Hey, if you were looking for a cheerleader for your bratty son, you never would’ve come searching in my direction.”

“That’s very true.” Bruce admitted.

He then suddenly paused and was struck with a thought.

Even despite everything that happened between them, Selina still came back to Gotham to teach at the GSPA.

At one point in his life, Bruce was truly in love with her. Selina was his first friend, and someone who truly captivated him and encouraged him to follow his heart.

The heartbreak Bruce suffered after she dumped him was the thing that finally drove him to marry Talia.

Bruce was so upset he swore he would never speak to her again, but circumstance never seemed to work in his favor.

Damian had been livid about moving to Gotham and claimed there wasn’t an instructor there worth his time. So Bruce swallowed up all his bitter feelings and pride, and for the sake of his son begged Selina to take up the teaching position she’d turned down many times.

He thought for sure she would’ve spurned him, but Bruce was desperate and still had to try. He knew without a violin instructor of her caliber teaching at the GSPA, Damian never would’ve stayed with him long.

To Bruce’s surprise, Selina accepted without question, but Bruce never could let go of his resentment, and when she did start to teach, he was cold and distant to her.

Selina abandoned Bruce during his time of need. If anything she owed him after the way she crushed him in order to protect her own heart.

_‘No…that isn’t the complete story, Bruce, and you know it…’_

_‘What are you so afraid of?’_

_‘Why do you keep running away?’_

Selina’s selfishness wasn’t the only thing to blame. Bruce had run away from the truth long enough.

When the two of them reunited again after college, Bruce wasn't in a good place, both psychologically and emotionally.

Growing up he had the biggest crush on her. It was part of the reason he worked so hard as her accompanist. He wanted nothing more than to be a pianist worthy enough to catch her attention and her heart.

Unfortunately, he never had the courage to confess his feelings and ended up settling with only being friends.

This was the reason Bruce decided not to waste his second chance. When the two of them both joined the New York Philharmonic, Bruce finally jumped on his past regret. The only problem was, by then, his heart was already frozen.

He never loved Selina the way he meant to, the way he _should’ve,_ and in reality, he only ended up using her as well.

Bruce’s mother was dead, and his father might as well have been. Bruce was emotionally starved and wanted nothing more than the comfort of someone's love.

He knew Selina cared for him, and he thought her attention and affection would be enough to satisfy his longing, but it wasn’t enough. No one ever was.

Bruce just couldn’t let go of the fear of opening up his heart completely only to have it broken again, and because of this fact, he pushed Selina away.

Just as cold as he was when he sat at the piano and performed each night, Bruce did the same with their relationship.

It was so much easier that way, so much _safer_ to just go through the motions and nothing more.

He knew he caused Selina to suffer. She wanted more from their relationship, but Bruce was never emotionally available.

So could he really blame her for leaving?

When his dad inquired about Bruce’s betrothal, Bruce couldn’t talk about anything else. He really thought he could use the opportunity to finally repair his relationship with him again.

It must’ve been the final nail that sealed the end of their relationship. If Bruce really loved Selina, without a doubt, he should’ve never considered marrying Talia.

Now Bruce finally accepted the truth. Selina wasn’t the only one to blame all this time for their failed relationship.

Just like with everyone else, _just like with Clark_ , Bruce pushed her away, and in the end, she got tired of chasing him.

Bruce let out a long exaltation. Realization and acceptance was finally settling in on his heart.

Selina instantly noticed the shift in the atmosphere. It was clear from the way Bruce’s features had eased and when he spoke, Selina felt like she was hearing the voice of a long lost friend.

“Selina…” he sighed softly. “I know this is a long time coming, but I just wanted to say…thank you.

If you hadn’t taken on my selfish requests, I’m sure Damian never would’ve stayed at the GSPA this long, and if he hadn’t, then he and I never would’ve…”

Bruce’s voice broke and, he couldn’t seem to recover the end of his sentence.

The confident air that always layered a wall of protection around Selina started to crumble, and she could hardly keep her own face composed.

“Hey now,” she stumbled. “Don’t start getting all sentimental on a girl.”

“Selina?”

Now the woman had her face cocked to the side so Bruce couldn’t see her blush.

She tried to sound stern, but the slight shake in her voice gave her away.

“I had my own selfish reasons for doing what I did, so don’t think someone like you has any kind of influence over me.”

“Of course not.” Bruce smiled.

“Besides, as frustrating as the little prince is, at least I can take credit for his achievements later down the road, especially when he starts knocking out all my titles.”

Bruce’s lips pursed into a more prominent arc. “I see, so that’s how it goes…”

She knew Bruce wasn’t buying her act and eventually let out a breath of resignation.

“Instructing Damian has been quite the challenge, but it’s also been a lot of fun training the person who will surpass me.”

“Yes,” Bruce honestly agreed.

“Also, thanks to his latest accompanist, he’s more receptive to instruction now.”

She eyed Bruce with a pointed smirk.

“Damian told me he was tired of being out performed by his accompanist.”

Bruce’s brow furled. “Really? That’s what he said?”

“Yes, and maybe you once mentioned to him that I was the only violinist to ever make you look bad.”

“I don’t ever recall saying that,” Bruce denied with a feigned look of disbelief.

“Of course not,” She snorted while lightly shoving the maestro.

Bruce halfheartedly dodged her attack before adding.

“Supporting Damian as his accompanist, but also pushing him past his own limitations, I’m glad I can help in some small way.”  
  
“Also, when we play together…” Bruce eyes glazed over. “I feel as if I can finally reach him.”

“Nothing better than some good father son bonding to bring two people closer together.” Selina grinned.

Bruce groaned back.

“Well, our recent abroad trip for his international competition brought me some more insight, but it’s still been a bit of an uphill struggle. The two of us, we hardly know each other at all, and half the time I have no idea what to say to him.”

“Well, you have to spend more time together,” Selina assured. “You ever think about asking Damian to actually move in with you?”

Bruce’s face changed to that of apprehension.

“I have, but…it’s probably a bit _disruptive_ to his current life style, also, he insists he’s waiting for his roommate to return.”

“Oh, I see…” Selina frowned as she remembered the scrawny yet cute little pianist who accompanied Damian just a few months back. To think something so tragic would happen to a musician as bright and talented has him.

“He at least finally started staying with me at the manor on weekends. For now we just practice together, but I hope we’ll eventually do more.”

“Well, it takes more time and effort to repair something broken than start from the beginning,” Selina sighed.

“Tell me about it.” Bruce nodded. “Still, I think when it’s someone worthwhile you have to try harder to fight.”

His soft eyes met a pair of wary azures.

“And not just for your family but also for your friends.”

“Bruce…” she barely mouthed back.

“Selina, would you like to join me for lunch? There are other things I’d like to discuss with you.”

A few more seconds of silence passed between them. Selina’s gaze was still locked on Bruce as though she was struggling to understand his intent.

Then again, she knew exactly what was going on, but couldn’t help but be too guarded to actually admit it. After all these years, the thing she never expected was happening. The forgiveness she didn’t think she would ever receive, nonetheless deserved, was finally looking back at her with a promise of friendship.

Her slightly hung jaw tightened and formed a content smirk.

“Only if you’re buying,” she finally answered.

“I figured those would be your terms,” Bruce snorted. “Fine, but were only eating in the cafeteria.”

“What?!” Selina pouted before wrinkling her nose with dissatisfaction. “So stingy, Brucie. Then I will have dessert today too.”

“Yeah, yeah, fine, I guess we can settle on those terms.”

***************************************************************

Bruce couldn’t help the look of pure contentment spread across his features as he returned to his classroom.

He could hardly remember all the idle things he and Selina chatted about during lunch. It was as though two of them had picked up right from where they left off. Now Bruce really felt as if they could finally repair the years of damage between them.

Just like with Damian, taking the first step was the hardest part.

Bruce had been so willing to hold onto all his pain and doubt. He really thought things were easier, _simpler,_ that way. To keep all his fears close to his heart and used as a barrier to protect himself from any further injury.

To think he wasted so many years keeping his distance from such a treasured person. 

Even though he pushed her away again, Selina still helped Bruce in his time of need. How could he be so foolish and not notice it till now? Clearly what Selina did was the action of a true friend.

Now Bruce realized Selina was someone worth holding onto more than his fear.

Bruce paused for a second once he reached the entrance of his office. He would’ve sworn he secured the door before leaving earlier that day. It wasn’t like him not to.

Maybe one of the custodians decided to clean up early since it was a Friday.

Bruce still entered his classroom cautiously. His alarm rose when he saw the unfamiliar back of a broad shouldered stranger standing over his table looking at his scores.

Perhaps he was the parent of a student. Regardless, Bruce really wasn’t happy about having his territory encroached upon without his permission.

Bruce cleared his throat and sternly got the intruder’s attention. “Can I help you?”

“Nothing’s really changed, has it?” the man snickered.

Bruce’s heart stuttered. This was a voice he could never forget.

“Always such a mess and more music than you can keep up with.”

_‘Ja…’_

His visitor finally turned around and revealed his face.

“Maybe you need to take on another community service brat to clean up this sty?”

_‘…son…_ ’

Jason smiled at Bruce fondly and simply replied. “Hey, old man.”

To be continued…

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter was a little more hopeful than the last one.
> 
> Finally I’ve gotten to this part of the story. I know she was a bit of a minor character, but I really thought Bruce needed to reconcile with Selina. Honestly, she was his first actual love interest he pushed away, and even though the feelings they once had for each other aren’t the same, I still think Bruce being willing to clear the air between his first failed relationship is an important step towards his recovery.
> 
> Now the next step will be Bruce and Jason!
> 
> The song for this chapter, I think it fits both Damian and Jon, and Bruce and Selina’s situation, considering both sets of musicians once played and accompanied together on piano and violin, and also because of the fact that this was meant to be a hopeful chapter of consolation.
> 
> Franz Liszt’s Consolation no.3 - Un poco più mosso (A little more moved):  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mDUCJB1PX9c&list=PLzn__QR9_6NDy5oBqub1B5PFghY-X1cCW&index=70 
> 
> Once again, thank you so much to everyone who continues to support this fic. All of you reall are the ones that keep me going!


	32. Amazing Grace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I thought I wasn’t going to do another flashback chapter, but I guess this is just Jason’s thing in this story now, lol. I really didn’t mean to give this character such a big presence in this story, but I guess I prefer writing about what actually happened to him rather than have him just talk about it (I at least think it’s more interesting).
> 
> In any case, this chapter is solely about Jason, so if you find yourself not particularly interested, I guess you could skip it. I at least combined two chapters into one though (part of the reason the update is so late), so the next chapter will be back on track, but I do hope everyone will still enjoy this chapter if you do decide to read it…

He blinked his blurry eyes, as if his mind would become clearer if his sight returned. No matter how much he repeated the action, the ceiling was still unfamiliar.

“W-where am I?” the sound of his own groggy voice managed to rasp out.

A barely stifled giggle replied.

Even though his muscles ached, he managed to recline enough to see a bushel of red and blonde hair and the grinning faces of two small children.

“Who the hell are you?” He snapped more harshly than he intended.

Their eyes widened with fright, and the two girls fled the room while shouting.

“Father! Father!”

The sounds of their voices made his already throbbing head pulse.

“Damn kids.” He muttered while forcing himself to sit up. “I better book it before their daddy shows up.”

Jason started to search the room and plotted his escape. There wasn’t much in the way of furniture, just a beat up shelf in the corner, an old nightstand, and a wooden cross hanging over the window.

 _‘Perfect,’_ he thought as he tossed the tangled sheets away from his legs. Then he froze.

“What the fuck!” he growled when he realized he was stripped down to nothing but his underwear. “Where the hell are my clothes?!”

“Language now, son,” A firm voice chided behind him.

All of Jason’s muscles tensed. His plan to avoid confrontation with their father was thoroughly foiled.

Slowly he turned around and tried to size up the stranger.

A tall man dressed in black accompanied by the ginger-haired girl frowned at him. He had his hands covering both her ears while she stared at Jason with bright curious emerald eyes. 

“Oh,” Jason drawled once he recognized the man’s robes. “You’re a _literal_ father…”

***********************************************

“What?” Jason managed to grunt in between bites. For some reason, the priest was just sitting next to him watching him eat.

The amiable curve of the man’s lips tugged into an even more defined smile.

“I knew you’d be hungry after sleeping two days straight, but your appetite is much _healthier_ than I imagined.”

“Food’s not bad,” Jason shrugged as he continued to shovel it down without breathing.

A flicker of appreciation flashed in the priest’s eyes. “Glad you think so. I made it myself.”

Jason licked his spoon clean before dropping it into his empty bowl. He then wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve and sighed.

“Alright, _father_. So what grandiose speech are you going to regale me with now that you’ve filled me up?”

Jason sneered at the man.

“Here, let me save you some time.”

The priest’s expression remained unmoved, and he politely waited for Jason as he cleared his throat and prattled in a sarcastic voice.

“By the grace of your _merciful_ god I was delivered this bountiful meal. Be thankful to the big man in the sky. If I turn from my evil ways, I’ll be reborn. He’s the only one who can truly _save_ me.  Sinner, sinner, repent, repent, yada, yada.”

Jason smiled smugly at the priest. “Does that sound about right?”

He narrowed his gaze. “You think you’re the first bleeding heart to take in this _charity_ case?”

Jason pushed back in his chair and casually leaned. “Look, father, I’m not buying what your selling. I’m fresh out of _fucks_ to spend.”

The priest still didn’t seem upset and only chuckled. “My, you have a quick tongue about you.”

“So I’ve been told,” Jason smirked.

“Where its true our father is open to forgiveness and chances at new life, I have no plans to force my beliefs on you.”

“Ttt, that’s a first,” Jason snorted as he suspiciously eyed the man. To his surprise, the priest still looked sincere and not at all discouraged.

“The Lord simply commands that I help those in need. I’m just fulfilling my end of his will. Anything else that happens after that is between you and him.”

“So now I get the boot?”

The priest’s smile warmed, and he shook his head.

“This place is a haven for those in need. You’re free to stay as long as that may be. However-”

“Ah, here comes the catch,” Jason griped. He knew better than to get his hopes up.

A towel was suddenly tossed at him. Jason nearly fell backwards out the seat he was balancing. He then looked back at the priest with mild irritation only to see a slightly shrewd smirk on the older man’s face.

“The Lord also says he who does not work, does not eat.”

“Eh?” Jason mouthed with confusion.

The priest motioned towards the area behind him. “You’ll find a sink in the kitchen.”

He stood up revealing the pot of left over stew he just served Jason. He patted the top of the lid before walking away and instructing.

“Make sure you clean up after you’ve had your fill.”

****************************************

Jason didn’t plan to stay long. Churches always cramped his style, and he knew it was only a matter of time before he wore out his welcome.

He really only planned to stay a few nights. It wasn’t often he got to sleep in an actual bed or eat more than a few times a week. Still, he didn’t want to get too comfortable. After years of wandering the streets, he knew a set up like this would never last

Typically Jason would leave without saying anything, but this time things were different. The least he could do was say goodbye and try to fit in a very obscure _thank you_. Sure he had an image to maintain, but the father deserved at least that much. Especially after everything he did for him.

After getting into an altercation with a gang who decided Jason had no business on their turf, Jason was left beaten unconscious in an alley. He didn’t even remember the moment when the father found him.

He later learned that some of the church kids ran into him near a park where they always played. The father ended up carrying Jason back to the church, had a doctor look at him, and even went to the trouble of nursing Jason the two days he was out.

After that, he let Jason stay at the church, and never once bothered him about who he was or why he ended up in such a state.

Usually when Jason got taken in by any homes or churches, they would pressure him with a million questions and preached and lectured him about getting his life together. As if Jason hadn’t tried. What no one seemed to understand was a high school dropout who appeared to have a bum hand didn’t exactly have the doors of opportunity flying open for him.

This was why he was surprised when the father only asked Jason to clean up after himself and watch his language around the kids, which there were more than plenty of around the church.

In addition to being the only chapel in downtown Bludhaven, the father would take in kids from off the streets that no one else seemed to want and ran an orphanage of sorts.

Some of the children were official fosters whereas others were just those who didn’t quite fit into the system just right. Runaways, kids from damaged homes, basically anyone who was just looking for a safe place.

Beyond the meager stipend father Dixon received from the government for the foster kids, all the church’s needs were payed for solely through donations.  
  
It also didn’t help that Dixon was always giving out handouts to members of the community, Jason being a prime example of such charity.

Jason was only around for three days, but that was plenty of time for him to figure out the kind of person father Dixon was. He was a patient and generous man and a well-known figure in the community. He treated every one of the kids living at the church as if they were his own and always opened the church’s doors to those in need.

He even held services four days a week, and at the end of each one, offered a free meal.

Father Dixon was also the only clergymen at the church, but there were a handful of volunteers who helped out. Some who even lived at the church, and most were people the father helped at some point in their lives.

Still, Jason was no stranger to seeing _“the men of God”_ at work. The thing that made Father Dixon stand apart was the fact that he never judged or condemned anyone. He just listened and advised, and helped as much as he could. He never acted like he was better than anyone, and often admitted he was a man with his own list of sins which made him no better than anyone else.

Jason could really respect this kind of person, but being at the church made him feel guilty. The place was barely scraping by. They didn’t need another mouth to feed, and Jason could fend for himself. That’s why he planned not to take advantage of the situation and leave when he was back to health.

What Jason didn’t plan was over hearing the conversation he heard the night he decided to leave.

He’d waited till after dinner to say his goodbyes. It didn’t hurt to get one last meal, and the father’s cooking wasn’t half bad.

After helping with cleanup, Jason went looking for the father, but Dixon was already preoccupied with another visitor.

“We can’t fully pay you for your services, but we did manage to get all the needed supplies and materials through donations. If you deduct that from the cost of the bill, I’m sure I can come up with the remaining-”

“Father, you know I can’t use materials you found off the streets,” a gruff voice ticked back. “There are ways this business works. I have people I contract through, codes and regulations to follow, insurance clauses I’ve agreed to.”

Jason ducked back around the corner he was about turn. This conversation was obviously not his business, but the desperation he heard in the father’s voice compelled him listen.

“Yes I understand, but isn’t there anything you can do? The part of the roof that needs repairing is in the children’s ward. I can’t have everyone crowded together for too long.”

For a moment the foremen wavered, but he soon came back to his senses and shook his head. “Look father, you may be running some kind of a charity, but I ain’t. I wrote you up a more than fair bill, and it’s the best I can do without working for free.”

The father started to insist again, but the foreman brought up a dismissive hand and continued to list off reasons he couldn’t help. After another ten minutes of pleading, father Dixon was completely shut down when the foreman finally decided to leave.

Father Dixon looked as though he would follow but instead dropped down into the nearest seat and brought his face into his hands.

Jason debated on what to do next. He really had no business listening, but at the same time Dixon looked completely distressed, and Jason knew if he ignored him he would regret it later.

“Leaky roof?”

The father slightly flinched when he heard Jason’s voice. He’d been so caught up in his inner turmoil he didn’t even hear him approach.

Weakly he smiled. “You heard all of that?”

“Well, it’s not like I didn’t notice the big hole in the roof.” Jason shrugged.

Dixon’s eyes darkened to a shade of remorse.

“Yes, unfortunately we had a bit of a storm last month, though the roof was probably seeing the last of its days anyways.”

 “That’s Bludhaven for you,” Jason half laughed. “When it rains it storms.”

“Unfortunately,” Dixon agreed. “I just…” he sighed. “All the kids have been relocated to our few remaining rooms and some are even sharing beds now. We have space for everyone at the moment, but I just hate the idea of having to turn down any one new.”

Jason felt an instant wave of guilt. If that was the case, then what about the room he was occupying? Now that he thought about, he did find priest robes in one of the dressers. Was he in Dixon’s room?

“You know…” Jason started. He paused. He could hardly believe what he was about to say.

“I use to do a lot of odd jobs with my old man when I was younger… roofing being one of those things…” he hesitantly bit his bottom. What was he going on about?

“I can’t say I’m an expert or would do a good job…”

“And I can’t say I could pay well,” Dixon countered.

Jason couldn’t help the sly curl that took his lips.

“Well, I guess if I had a place to sleep and decent food, I wouldn’t need a lot.”

Dixon chuckled. “Oh, I think I could manage at least that much.”

*********************************************************

Jason worked on the roof for over a week. To say he bit off more than he could chew was an understatement. He really wasn’t qualified for the job, and the leak ended up being more than a simple patch job.

Jason was at least familiar with replacing roofs, but when it came to figuring out how to repair the hole, he spent a good deal of time researching online at a local library.

Sometimes when they weren’t busy, the church volunteers would help, and even a few times father Dixon assisted him too. However, for a majority of the job, Jason was on his own. Luckily the materials Dixon supplied him with were more than what they needed, and whenever he did require something else, Dixon used his community connections to get it.

The job was nearly complete now. Sure it wasn’t the prettiest work, but it was at least enough to keep the roof from leaking and probably looking better than it did in years.

Jason was relieved to almost be done, but at the same time he felt a little disappointed. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was starting to get use to his life at the church.

Despite all the kids running around, the church was a peaceful place, and everyone who lived there was always so warm and full of life. The place held a kind of familial atmosphere that Jason never experienced before but once wished for back when he was younger.

_‘If only I found a place like this back then. I wonder how different my life would’ve been.’_

Then again, that would mean he never would’ve learned to play the piano.

Jason fingers tingled at the thought, and he looked at his gloved hand. Even if he couldn’t see them, the scars were still there.

After his accident, the doctors told him he would never fully recover. Luckily his hand healed enough for him to still use it, but there were some nerves that couldn’t be repaired even despite all the expensive surgeries Bruce paid for.

_‘Bruce…’_

Jason always had to walk past the sanctuary to get to the area that led to the attic. Every time he did, he couldn’t help but feel a throb of longing whenever he walked past the piano. The last time he played was back when he still attended the GSPA. Back before the accident. Back before his life completely changed…

The ache continued to eat away at him, until one day he found himself sitting at the bench staring at sheet music for the hymnal “Amazing Grace”.

_Amazing grace. How sweet the sound_  
_That saved a wretch like me._  
_I once was lost, but now am found;_  
_Was blind, but now I see…_  

“Wow old man, you can actually play?” a voice whopped behind him.

Jason’s hands instantly recoiled. When did he start playing? Was being at the piano really so natural to him he couldn’t even tell the difference between playing and not?

Jason frowned at the red headed boy grinning up at him. Two of his front teeth were missing making his smile look even cheekier.

“Who you callin’ old man? I’m only 19 years old.”

The boy’s already large eyes grew to twice their size. “Wow 19? You’re practically ancient!”

Jason clenched down on his jaw in order to bite back the words he initially wanted to say. He really had no patience for kids.

“Ancient…” Jason grounded with as much restraint as he could summon. “And how old is a _damn_ brat like you?”

Another voice gasped. That’s when Jason noticed and even smaller girl hiding behind the boy.

She had a hand covering her mouth and looked as though she would explode if she had to hold in the words she just gasped in.

“What?” Jason asked.

Here face went flush, and she giggled while looking coyly towards the ground. “You said a bad word.”

Jason’s smirk darkened, and he leaned in and motioned them closer with his finger.

“You think that’s bad, you want to hear something else?”

The ginger boy’s toothless smile enlarged, and he shook his head vigorously while the little blond girl’s blush deepened.

“Jason,” a terse voice warned.

Jason internally groaned. How was the father’s timing always so perfect?

“These children are young and at an incorrigible age. Anything you do or say, they’ll soak up like sponges.”

“Then maybe you should tell them to keep away from me,” Jason muttered sourly under his breath.

Father Dixon narrowed his eyes and both Jason and the boy shrank under them.

“Hey Jay,” a small voice whispered, and then there was a tug at his sleeve. Jason looked at the little girl who just saved him from Dixon’s frown. Her bright blue eyes were practically sparkling.

“I can play twinkle twinkle star!” She declared proudly. “Wanna hear?”

Before Jason could answer, she hopped onto the bench beside him and started to play.

“Haha, you suck, Terra,” the ginger-haired boy jeered after she missed several notes.

“Shut up, Gar!” She shouted back.  “You’re just jealous!”

“Not bad,” Jason hummed before he took her tiny fingers and repositioned them on the keys.

“But if your hands were like this instead, you could reach the keys better.”

Her nose wrinkled. “It feels funny.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Jason chuckled.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, watch.”

Both Gar and Terra’s jaws dropped when Jason started to effortlessly play the song at twice Terra’s earlier speed.

“OH WOW! You’re right!” Terra acclaimed. “You’re AMAZING, Jay!”

Gar’s mouth closed tight when he heard her praise, and he frowned back at Jason with clear jealousy in his eyes.

“Pfft, it’s just twinkle twinkle little star,” he snorted. “That ain’t nothing special.”

“Oh yeah?” Jason smirked. It was finally time for him to knock the boy back down to his scrawny size.

“WHHHAAAA!” Terra squealed when Jason completely changed up the beat and played the song with a jazzy twist.

“N-no way,” Gar stammered with the same baffled look of wonder in his eyes.

When Jason was done he turned and smiled at the pair proudly. “So?”

Terra started to clap her hands. “That’s so cool! I want to play like that too.”

“Y-yeah….” Gar mumbled.

“Jason, will you teach me?” Terra asked. “Pretty pleeaaassse.”

“Err…” Jason started. She’d completely blindsided him with her puppy dog eyes. Even though he thought all kids were brats, this one was looking at him in an exceptionally cute manner.

“Yeah, I wanna…” Gar stumbled while blushing. “That is if…” he lowered his head. “I mean if someone like me could even learn…”

Jason felt something in his chest tighten when he saw the boy. There was something too familiar about the way he was standing with his eyes cast timidly towards the ground.

Jason tapped Gar on the shoulder. “Of course you can learn.” Gar’s eyes widened with veneration when he met Jason’s reassuring gaze and suddenly his toothless grin seemed a little less annoying.

“So you’ll teach us?” Terra chirped.

“I could, but-”

“YAY!” Terra cheered as she jumped off the bench and started to skip out the room. “Thank you Jason! I’m going to tell Kory right now!”

“H-hey wait up!” Gar stumbled while immediately chasing after her.

Jason looked in the direction the two kids just sailed in utter disbelief. Did he just get worked over by two ten year olds?

“Geez, I never said…” he started to grumble while rubbing the back of his neck. He was almost done with the roof repairs and would probably be leaving soon.

“Well, I guess I can give them a few lessons before I leave…” Jason mumbled before looking back at father Dixon.

The priest had his arms crossed and was still leaning in the doorway, but his earlier disapproving frown was now traded for an admiring smile.

“That was rather impressive. I had no idea you knew how to play.”

“This is nothing,” Jason shrugged. “You should’ve heard me play back before...”

He squeezed his gloved hand tightly, and even Dixon’s face fell when Jason stopped midsentence.

Jason recovered with an uneasy laugh. “Heh, well, at least I can still do this much.”

“Yes, that is fortunate.” Dixon agreed, but the troubled haze didn’t leave his eyes.

Jason balled his fingers a little tighter. “My hand doesn’t move like it used to. I mean, my mind knows what it wants to do, but my hand just doesn’t seem to register it fast enough.”

Jason smiled dejectedly. “It’s kinda frustrating...”

Ever since his accident, Jason never once voiced these thoughts. Hearing them out loud for the first time made them feel more real, and yet somehow Jason felt liberated rather than hurt.

“I also can’t play for too long without feeling some pain. Sure I can play simple songs like this just fine, but the stuff I really used to love…”

The words tightened in his throat and refused to come out. Maybe this reality wasn’t something he was ready to face yet.

Dixon was quiet for a few seconds before finally replying.

“You know Jay, you don’t have to always perform like a star to play something meaningful.”

Jason blinked with perplexity.

“Well, our organist passed a few months back,” Dixon explained.

“Of course, we don’t have money to hire a new one, and no one else in the congregation knows how to play. Since then, we just sing along to old recordings.”

Dixon let out a sheepish laugh. “It doesn’t sound all that great. Actually, it sounds terrible, but it’s the best we have to work with. That being said, after you finish fixing the roof, if you wanted to stay a little longer, we do have an open spot for a new organist.”

Father Dixon looked towards Jason with a hopeful smile.

“I can’t pay you anything, but we can at least offer you the roof you’re so humbly fixing, a place to rest your head, and three square meals.”

“Look father,” Jason finally answered while shutting the piano fall and frowning. “I’m not interested in playing church songs for a spiritual being who’s never done shit for me.”

Then without another word Jason picked up his tool bag and left.

***************************************************

“Wow, Terra, that sounded like a dying cat,” Gar taunted between a droll laugh.

The girl’s cheeks puffed up, and her face turned red. Jason nearly snickered when he realized she looked like a tomato. He then started to scold Gar, but was interrupted.  

“Gar why are you always so mean?!” Terra shouted. She then burst into tears and ran out the sanctuary.

“Hey w-wait!” Gar stammered with a look of genuine guilt.

He then started to chase after her but was met with a swift punch to the back of the head.

“OW!” the boy wailed before crumpling towards the ground and holding his injury. “What was that for?!”

He glared at Jason but was met with an equally cross scowl.

“Look, Gar, I know you’re sweet on Terra.”

Gar’s eyes widened and his face turned a shade that rivaled Terra’s cheeks. “Wha-what? No way! Sh-she’s just a dumb crybaby…”

Jason rolled his eyes.

“Listen to me, it’s time you get some man advice. Girls don’t like it when you pull on their pigtails.”

“But she doesn’t have any-”

Gar winced again when Jason thumped him across the forehead.

“Stop runnin your mouth and listen for a change.”

Tears of pain welled up in Gar’s eyes but he pursed his lips shut.

“Unlike thick headed boys, girls are softer on the inside. If you really want to get Terra to notice you, picking on her and making her cry isn’t the way.”

“Well, then what should I do?” Gar sniffled.

“I’m going to teach you a song that will get her attention for sure.”

“Yeah right,” Gar snorted. “Like some stupid song is going to work.”

“It used to get me plenty of girl’s back in the day.” Jason smirked.

“Yeah, back during the grandpa era,” Gar snickered.

“OUCH!” The boy yelped. Once again, another swift strike was dealt to his head.

“Don’t make me change my mind, brat.”

****************************************

Fingers crashed down against keys.

The strike of each hammer was heavy and hard nearly drowning out the chiming strings.

The vibration of notes resonating the air felt chaotic. There was no rhyme or reason about them. No harmony, only dissonance.

“Damn it!” he cursed.

He knew every note before it came. He could see them behind his tightly closed eyes, hear them clearly in his mind.

How many times had he played this song? Even after all these years, the music was still engraved into his soul. Every movement was familiar, involuntary like breathing.

So then why? Why couldn’t he play it? Why did his fingers refuse to move?

“DAMN IT!” he shouted again, and his actions became even more of a frenzied mess.

He was mentally choking and gasping for air. This wasn’t music. This was _agony_.

Jason’s body finally gave way and he shrank towards the piano until his forehead was resting on the edge of its ivory surface.

It was the first time he tried to play the song since his accident, but he already knew it was impossible.

He was well aware that his hand had become sluggish, that his fingers couldn’t stretch out as far, that every so often he’d feel a dull numbness take his hand.

Still he had to try. Even if he was afraid to face the truth, his soul couldn’t help but remember the song that stole his heart.

_‘Quasi una fantasia….’_

That sly maestro. If only he’d never met him. Then he never would’ve heard that song, and then maybe...

“Damn…” Jason quietly sobbed, but there were no tears in his eyes. Those dried out years ago.

“Jason?” a worried voice called out to him. “Are you alright?”

Jason sat up but kept his back to the man.

“Let me ask you something, father.” He chuckled grimly.

“If your god is as great as you say, if he really _loves_ me so much, then why did he put me on this shit hole just to make me suffer?”

Father Dixon didn’t answer, but it didn’t deter him. There were so much more Jason wanted to say.

“Why was I born to a no good criminal dad and an addict mom? Why are there so many parentless kids at this damn church?”

His voice started to rise.

 “Why didn’t you have enough money to repair the roof? Why are you always barely scrappin by?”

He brought his trembling hands up and bitterly scowled.

“And why can’t I…”

He balled them up and suddenly whirled around.

“Why am I even alive? What’s the point of it all, and why can’t I…why am I…”

Jason’s final words were almost inaudible.

“Why am I too much of a coward to end it…”

Jason could feel Dixon’s eyes on him but refused to meet his gaze. He could already imagine what kind of pitiful expression he was making.

After a drawn out silence, the priest carefully moved closer until he was sitting next to the shaky Jason.

“Jason…” he sighed.

He made a move as though he were going to pat him before retracting the idea and folding his hands in his lap instead.

Another long exaltation filled the silence between them. No doubt the father was looking for the right words to say, not that there were any.

“I can’t claim to understand God and the grand scheme of his designs,” Dixon quietly spoke.

“But I do know we’re all put on this Earth for a reason, and even if your purpose seems small to you, it may mean the world to someone else.”

Jason let out a scathing sound. No doubt he was already fed up with hearing lines like this.

Dixon went thoughtfully silent again before clearing his throat and trying again.

“You know, once upon a time, I was someone’s no good father too. I only cared about gambling away my money and time because I thought material things would make me happy. I wish back then I wasn’t so blind, then maybe…”

Another pause.

“Then maybe I could’ve appreciated my own son before he passed….”

Jason’s eyes widened, and Dixon knew he’d gotten his attention again. He then answered Jason’s questioning eyes with a dejected smile.

“After my son died, my wife left me too. I really thought my world was over back then. So I wandered around aimlessly lost and without purpose. Luckily someone found me and gave me a second chance. Long story short, here I am today taking care of this church and all these kids.”

At that recollection alone, Dixon’s features lightened and the warmth returned to his eyes.

“Sure no one can replace the son I lost, but each one of these kids is special to me, and I cherish and love them all.

I also love this community and regardless of it being in the middle of crime alley, there are still good people here who need saving, folks who don’t have the means to go to fancy churches in places like uptown Gotham. So I run this church for them, help them as much as I can, and somehow we manage to always have enough to pay our bills and feed all these bellies.”

Jason’s face was still at a loss. Father Dixon could tell he was still processing everything. That’s when Dixon finally satisfied the urge he’d been too cautious to act on earlier.

Jason felt the comforting touch of a hand at his shoulder. Maybe it was only in his head, but he felt warmth at the point of contact that started to spread throughout the rest of his body.

“You know,” Dixon added with a slightly guilty laugh. “I also don’t always agree with God, but I can say from experience, regardless of whether I understand his plans and designs, he always seems to let things happen for a reason, and even if the present outcome makes no sense to me now, sometimes it will much later in the future. Sometimes life is just about being patient and slowly growing.”

Jason felt Dixon’s hand leave him, but the warmth still remained.

“We didn’t have the money to pay the contractor for the roof, but then you showed up on our doorstep.

I also often wonder, had I not been dealt the tragedies and losses in my life, where would I be today? Would I still be wasting my life? Who would be taking care of this church and all these kids?”

Jason didn’t answer. He didn’t know what to say.

“Look, Jason,” Dixon sighed. “Whether you believe in God or not, you should at least believe in yourself. You have so much talent and heart, and I’m sure I’m not the only person who ever thought the same.”

Jason felt another jerk tug inside him. Dixon was right, he wasn’t. There was also another person he really admired that once told him something similar.  How could he have forgotten?

“I’m sorry you aren’t able to play the beautiful music you love, but really I don’t think performing like a prodigy is the only way you can touch people with your talent.”

Dixon’s smile turned sad again but his eyes reflected something fond.

“Our old organist Lucille, God bless her soul, she was senile and could barely see and hear, but what she did for this congregation, volunteering every service meant the world to this community, and what I see you doing here lately isn’t much different.”

“Huh?” Jason mumbled.

“Interacting with these kids,” Dixon clarified. “Teaching them to play, and the way their eyes light up, you have no idea how much it means to them.”

Jason lowered his gaze. “I’m just messing around with them. It’s no big deal…”

“I hope one day you’ll understand that it is,” Dixon quickly countered. “Sure it doesn’t seem like much to you, but to them, you are shining so much light into their lives. Even after you leave, they’re never going to forget the things you did for them.”

Dixon finally stood up, and Jason could hear the creak in his knees. The man certainly wasn’t at his prime anymore, but somehow he always seemed to find the drive to keep moving forward. Then again, even if he had to go at it alone, Jason was sure the man would never give up. If only Jason could find that same kind of faith in life.

“You know,” Dixon smiled. “The bible says we sow the seeds that we plant, but sometimes we don’t always see the fruits of our labor, but regardless, even the tiniest seed can one day blossom into a tree.”

Jason snorted at the father’s reference, but couldn’t help a small smile. This caused Dixon’s grin to widen.

“In any case-” Dixon feigned a yawn and started to pat his robes back into place. “Please don’t think so poorly of yourself. You have the potential of a forest, and I hope one day your heart will heal enough for you to see that too.”

*******************************************************

The man stood with his hands at his hips and whistled up towards the ceiling.

“Well, I don’t think the contractor could’ve done a better job with his entire crew of roofers,” Dixon acclaimed while admiring Jason’s work.

Jason knew it was an exaggeration. It’d taken him over half a month to finish the job. Had the father been able to hire a proper crew, it could’ve been completed in less than a week.

Still, hearing the man’s praise did feel nice even if he was laying it on thick.

Jason’s smirk curled.

“You can only say that because you can’t see the mess I made on the outer roof.”

“And I probably never will!” Dixon laughed. “You have any idea how afraid of heights I am.”

Jason couldn’t hold back his snicker when he saw Dixon’s fake face of terror. The man really was a terrible liar.

“You know,” Dixon grinned. “With the kind of work you did, I bet you could easily get a job in construction.”

He peaked at Jason while still facing the ceiling. “I might have a few connections if you ever need a good reference.”

Jason’s expression went dim but his smile didn’t fade.

“Yeah, maybe,” he mumbled. “But honestly, I’m not really fond of heights either. Also, I actually like playing the piano more.”

He looked towards the ground. Really, Jason still wasn’t sure what he wanted in life. Maybe it was just what everyone else was looking for.

_‘Happiness.’_

Then again, the definition of such a thing was never the same for any one person. At one point, he thought his talent as a pianist was the only outlet he could use to achieve his goal. That’s why being crippled had been so hard. Still, if he was honest, he knew it was less about playing and more about the feeling of pride and accomplishment he gained while performing. That he could use his music as a form of expression and influence and change people’s lives. That a nobody like him could actually make a difference in the world.

“So…” Jason sighed as he finally realized what he wanted to do. “You find anyone to fill Lucille’s old position?”

“Hmm,” Dixon hummed before turning towards Jason and offering him his hand. “I think I just did.”

“Look father,” Jason started. “I still think all this spiritual bull and providence crap is ridiculous. Like some guy in the sky has my entire life laid out for me.”

He sneered but it wasn’t mocking.

“Personally, I believe in making my own fate. So I at least agree my life will only be a waste if I make it out that way.”

Dixon shrugged but still didn’t withdraw his hand. Instead, he continued to patiently wait and allowed Jason to continue with his disclaimer.

“With that being said I don’t mind playing any church songs. Just as long as I don’t have to stick around for any sermons.”

“Fair enough,” Dixon smiled.

Jason made a strange face before turning his eyes away and muttering lowly.

“I also think only playing a handful of times every week isn’t a fair trade for the room and somewhat decent food, so maybe I’ll keep giving lessons to those little brats too. I’m sure you can appreciate having them out of your hair every once in a while.”

“Deal!” Dixon enthusiastically exclaimed as he snatched up Jason’s hand and shook it.

Then, as if on cue, two ginger-haired boys came rushing into the sanctuary.

“JAY! JAY!” Gar caroled while he and his companion ran a circle around him.

Jason cupped a hand over the top of the Gar’s head to stop him. “What kid?”

His huge green eyes glistened up at Jason excitedly. “Guess what?” he grinned and then blurted the answer before Jason could even answer. “I played that song you taught me for Terra, and she actually gave me a hug.”

Jason smirked at the boy proudly. “See, what I tell you?”

“Hey Jay!” Gar’s friend suddenly cut in. “Can you teach me a song?”

“Yeah!” Gar laughed. “Wally said he wants to learn to play the piano too.”

Wally’s face turned avid, and he snickered drolly. “Yup, I want you teach me to get girls too because there are about three here I really-OW!”

Both Gar and Wally were shrinking towards the ground holding the bruised area where Jason just punched them in the head.

“Don’t cheapen the music I teach you with sleazy intentions,” Jason growled. “You’re too young to be thinking about stuff like that. Geez, you kids watch too much damn TV.”

“Language,” Dixon warned.

“Ttt.” Jason ticked.

Dixon didn’t seem fazed by Jason’s dirty look and just chuckled.

“Well, it looks like you have your hands full. I guess I’ll make up a special dinner in celebration of your new job.”

“Sure, whatever,” Jason snorted before making his way towards the piano and trying not to trip over the two boys practically latched onto him.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d stick around, but for now, maybe this gig wasn’t so bad.

To be continued…

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who didn’t guess it already, the orphans in the story are all teen titan members. I somehow found a way to sneak them into the story.
> 
> Gar is short for Garfield aka Beastboy. Kory is Starfire, Wally is Kidflash, and Terra is, well, obvious.
> 
> Also, FYI, in the Flashpoint world, Jason actually becomes a priest. In that world he never met Bruce, and was instead taken in by Brother Blood. He still ends up dying and being reborn via the Lazarus pit, but rather than wreak havoc on Batman out of anger, he gets taken in by a church and becomes a priest. This chapter was homage to that version of Jason.
> 
> Also, I named the priest in this story after one of Batman’s aliases he used when he did some undercover work, Frank Dixon. So in a sense, I guess Jason got mentored by another version of Bruce ;)
> 
> Well, I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. It really was meant to be more hopeful than not. Sure Jason won’t ever become a famous pianist, but being in the limelight was never really his style. Also, in some small sense, he’s still following  in Bruce’s footsteps by becoming an instructor to the foster kids, and even if he’s taking a slightly different path, I think he’ll be happier now by the end.
> 
> Now why he finally showed up on Bruce’s doorstop after so many years, that will be explained in the next chapter ;)
> 
> Okay, well thanks again to everyone who’s still sticking with this story and thank you for all you kind words of encouragement.  It really does keep me going!
> 
> Chapter Title named after the Hymn Jason was playing Amazing Grace. I feel it was appropriate since this chapter was about Jason finally finding some peace.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zALD2TDYEvc
> 
> A more upbeat version (I imagine this is how he will play it at services because he would just say screw traditional church music, lol):  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0VIw5mz-Njs&list=PLzn__QR9_6NDy5oBqub1B5PFghY-X1cCW&index=78
> 
> I also added a version of Twinkle Twinkle little star that I think resembled what Jason played because of course he would try to one-up a ten year old child, lol:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=my4FX8Zj_Jc


	33. Clair de Lune (Moonlight)

It felt like time stopped and maybe it did. His body wasn’t moving, wasn’t breathing.

He knew he should move, at the very least speak, but instead he just stood there with his eyes wide and a mind so blank he couldn’t form any connecting thoughts outside the word, _‘Jason…’_

It’d been so many years now, but somehow the headstrong cheeky little boy was still wholly recognizable to him. Even despite the foot and several inches he’d grown, and the wide more defined build of his body, those striking blue eyes and that poised smile still remained unchanged.

Jason’s smirk slipped into a more artful shape.  “Whoa now, no need to turn up the waterworks.” He chuckled. “Maestro, are you getting soft in your old age?”

Was Bruce really crying? He wasn’t sure. He was too stunned to register anything and Jason’s playful expression was always deceiving.

Finally Bruce found his voice. “Jason, I’m so sor-”

Jason’s smile immediately dropped. The farce was over.

“Don’t even say it,” he warned, and when Bruce still tried to finish stringing the words together, Jason let go the last of his restraints and pulled the man into a very swift embrace.

Bruce’s words were stifled inside his already constricting throat, and he accepted the hug full heartily.

Then he heard a low almost inaudible murmur in his ear. “If anyone should be apologizing, it should be me…”

**************************************************************

After their somewhat emotional reunion, Bruce and Jason found themselves settled in Bruce’s office.

Bruce and Jason didn’t really exchange many words after their embrace. Of course, Bruce had about a million questions he could’ve asked, but instead he was just content with seeing Jason alive and well.

The look in Jason’s eyes was nothing at all like Bruce last remembered.

Back then, Jason was so lost, and it seemed as though all the life had been snuffed out his once brilliant azures. Jason also refused to talk to anyone and was mostly unresponsive to anything Bruce did or said.

Now that fiery glow had returned. If anything, he looked even more resolved. Not only had his body grown, but also his spirit seemed more mature as well. So much must’ve happened to Jason over the last five years.

Noticing Bruce’s exploratory gaze, Jason took it as a lead in to explain all his past adventures.

Of course, he waited till after Bruce offered him a cup of coffee. Then when the maestro’s back was to him, Jason regaled him with tales of his years wandering the streets.

Bruce’s heart ached when he heard about all the hardships Jason endured. How he’d left the hospital without going through physical therapy, and spent so many months on his own trying to get his hand back to a useable condition.

It wasn’t until Jason spoke of the orphanage and the church in Bludhaven that gave him a second chance, that Bruce felt the tightness in his chest wane.

 _‘So that explains it,’_ Bruce thought.

Then Jason mentioned the priest who took him in and all the kids he worked with, and Bruce could hear and feel the warmth it brought to Jason’s heart.

Finally, Bruce turned around. Now that Jason was past the hard points of his story, he knew his former protégé would feel more comfortable facing him again.

“Thanks,” Jason smiled when Bruce handed him a mug.

Bruce had taken his time making the coffee. Now whose sake that was for, Jason didn’t care to ask.

He made a slightly off put face. “Wow, this is sweeter than I remember you liking it.”

Bruce’s eyes widened. He’d been so lost in Jason’s story he basically made the drink on autopilot.

“I’m sorry,” Bruce apologized while trying not to look disturbed. “Someone I knew really liked it that way, and I guess I just,” he grimaced. “It’s not important anymore…”

Bruce really tried not to think about that person often, but it was a hard thing to do, especially when he kept finding himself doing unconscious things like this.

Jason shrugged it off and continued to drink the coffee without any further complaints, and Bruce was thankful he didn’t press the subject further.

Bruce didn’t even touch his own drink after that and looked a bit uneasily towards the table until his eyes fell on Jason’s hand.

Jason felt Bruce staring at his glove.

“Oh this?” Once again he was answering Bruce’s silent inquiry. “Don’t sweat it,” he assured. “It doesn’t hurt or anything and still works for the most part.”

He let out a dry laugh.

“Of course, I’m not going to be playing anymore _Quasi Una Fantasias_ , but at least it gets me through the day.”

Once again, pain took the maestro’s features “Jason…”

No matter how much Jason told him it’s wasn’t his fault, Bruce still couldn’t help but feel responsible.

All those years ago, he was the one who planted that song in Jason’s heart. From the beginning he manipulated the boy until he’d become obsessed with learning it.

Jason had so much pride. Bruce knew Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata was the perfect piece to finally break down his hubris. It was such a difficult song to play, but at the same time the perfect one to bring to light all of Jason’s heart and talent.

What Bruce didn’t count on was the fact that Jason would later fall in love with the piece.

Who would’ve thought the song that once brought the boy so much joy would one day be the source of his pain? There was no way Jason could ever play it again. Not with the condition his hand was in now.

Had Bruce known things were going to turn out this way, he never would’ve pushed Jason so hard.

“Bruce, really, it’s okay.”

Bruce blinked out of his own mulling when he heard Jason’s reassuring voice.

Their eyes met, and Bruce’s frown faded. There was so much honest sincerity reflecting back at him and that’s when Bruce realized how much one simple phrase could mean, and yet it was something he needed so desperately to hear all these years.

_‘It’s okay.’_

Jason saw the change in Bruce’s appearance and his smile grew. He could tell his words had gotten through, but there was still so much more he needed to say.

Jason looked down at his half empty cup.

The words he said next were things he thought about for years, but never had the nerve to speak, but somehow looking at his own guilty expression rather than Bruce made it a little easier.

“You know, after my accident, I was so upset and frustrated. I was angry at the entire world, including you, but really no matter who I blamed, it never would undo what already happened.”

Jason’s gloved hand tightened around the handle of his cup.

“Still, sticking around with you and everyone else, being reminded daily of what I lost, it was just too painful, so I left.”

A nervous laugh broke Jason’s voice.

“Looking back now, it really was stupid. Here I am a high school drop out with a bum hand and no family. I couldn’t even pickpocket anymore. So I wandered the streets for years trying to scrape by until I was practically dead in the gutter.”

Another pang of remorse took Bruce, and he forced his eyes low.

“Until someone saved me… _again_.”

Bruce looked back up. “Again?”

Jason was staring straight back at him but there was remorse both in his face and his voice.

“Bruce, I should’ve come and seen you years ago, but I was too ashamed.”

“What?” Bruce balked. “Why?”

“Because you did so much for me, and in return, I blamed you for something that wasn’t your fault. I hurt you deeply, and then I ran away.”

Jason made a guilty sound.

“I knew I shouldn’t have left things like that between us, but the longer time went by the more my guilt weighed me down until it was easier to keep running away than face you. I really thought I’d never have the courage to see you again, but after talking with Clark-”

“Clark?” Bruce suddenly echoed.

Jason nodded at the confused maestro. “Yeah, it was the craziest thing. You remember that famous composer, Clark Kent?”

“Y-yeah…” Bruce answered with a strangely uneasy expression.

“Well, a few months back he showed up out of the blue at one of father Dixon’s services.”

Jason let out a confounded laugh.

“I couldn’t believe it myself either, that after all these years, the first person to come haunting me would the composer who wrote that amazing song.”

Bruce narrowed his eyes on the table and didn’t say a word. He was too busy wondering when Clark had gone to see Jason. No doubt it was before they broke up. That would explain why he’d been so intent on Bruce and Jason meeting again.

“He was the first person I’d seen in years that had anything to do with my past. I really thought I’d buried that chapter of my life, but when I saw him, it triggered so many memories.”

Jason’s eyes went a little hazy, and Bruce could tell the memory was something he was pondering deeply.

“My first thought was to try and avoid Clark, but he saw me playing the organ. After that, he said he wanted to catch up and somehow he convinced me to join him for coffee. Then we got to chatting and damn if that guy isn’t the easiest person to talk to.”

Bruce nodded in agreement, but neither he nor Jason seemed to notice that he did.

“I still remember the first time we met. He started hounding me with all those questions about myself. Telling me he wanted to get to know me better so he could write the perfect piece to reflect me. I didn’t know his process was so intrusive, and I was incredibly reluctant, but after one cup the guy had me opening up like a book, and this time was no different.”

Jason combed his bangs to the side and seemed irritated but at the same time still had a reminiscent smile on his face.

“I told him all about the church and the work we do with the kids and community. He seemed really happy, even offered a donation even though I told him not to.

Jason leaned back in his seat in order to get into a more comfortable position.

“Then somehow we got on the subject of my accident and my injury, and I…he said something to me that really got to me.”

*********************************************

“I’m glad that despite everything, you haven’t given up.”

“Huh?” Jason wondered outloud. He then studied Clark’s expression in hopes that he could discern what he was talking about.

He didn’t have to stare much harder before Clark started to explain himself.

“Even though you can’t play the piano like before, you still keep moving forward touching the hearts of everyone you meet.”

Jason’s lowered his head. “You’re giving me too much credit.”

 “No, I’m serious,” Clark earnestly insisted. “Even the first time we met, you always thought too little of yourself. As if the impact you have in people’s lives didn’t matter, but you’re wrong.”

The younger man still didn’t look convinced.

Clark sighed, and then urged him in an even more earnest voice.

“Jason, the first time I heard you play, you truly moved me. There’s so much passion burning inside you, and everything you touch is set on fire.”

“Heh,” Jason chuckled and for the first time Clark saw Jason’s honest smile. “You know. You aren’t the first guy to tell me something like that…”

“It’s true,” Clark instantly countered. “That’s why, even despite everything, you’re at this church helping these people, these children. Setting all of them ablaze and spreading your influence like a wildfire.”

“Clark…”

“Talking to you today, I can tell you’re doing fine being the person you were always meant to be.” Clark leaned a little closer towards Jason even despite the table between them. “So keep moving forward and I know as long as you do that, you’ll continue to do good for yourself and the people you care about.”

Jason swallowed hard and pretended to ignore the hand Clark almost cupped over his own.

“So you also think I can still make a meaningful difference even despite not being able to perform like before?”

“Jason, the piano is only an extension of who you really are. It’s merely an instrument, and nothing more. It’s not the thing that defines you. It’s only a tool you use to express yourself.” He edged a little closer but still seemed reluctant.

Jason always pegged Clark as the hugging type but appreciated the man was respecting his space.

“It doesn’t matter what kind of music you play so long as you put your heart and soul into it. That’s why even teaching can be rewarding if not more.”

“Is that so…” Jason mumbled, and for some reason, he couldn’t help but think about Bruce.

“In any case,” Clark smiled. “Just remember you’re a lot stronger than you realize. You don’t always have to play the piano to voice the things you want to say. The courage to bare your heart is something inside of you, so please don’t let fear and doubt keep you from who are what you care about.”

***************************************************

Bruce was speechless. Did he really tell Jason all those things?

Clark told Bruce he only wanted to meet Jason to see if he could help him, and from what Jason said, it seemed like he did.

Jason’s voice broke through Bruce’s thoughts.

“I really didn’t know what to say to Clark after that, but his words really stuck and made me think about you, Bruce.”

Jason gave Bruce a pitiful smile.

“I really was looking forward to us playing together at that expose concert, and realizing I couldn’t anymore was one of the things that devastated me the most.”

Bruce slightly cringed. Just as he suspected, Jason really looked forward to that night and honestly so had Bruce.

“But why I wanted to play with you wasn’t for the reasons you might think…”

Bruce met Jason’s eyes with question and almost swore he saw a faint blush.

“Well, I had this plan. I wanted to show you everything you meant to me that night on the stage, but now I…”

Like a man preparing to rip off a Band-Aid, Jason sucked in a lungful of air and blurted.

“Bruce, before I met you, I was just another street punk on my way to juvie and eventually I would’ve followed in my father’s criminal footsteps, but for some reason, a maestro who trained a dozen child prodigies took notice of me. Was it really because you just liked the way I played?”

Bruce smiled. Some things about Jason would never change. Not that Bruce could say he was any better at voicing his deep thoughts.

Still, when someone laid down their soul so bold and sincerely, Bruce couldn’t help but answer with just as much transparency.

“Honestly,” Bruce hummed. “You did intrigue me but you were still extremely rough behind the edges, and I knew it was going to take a lot of work to bring out your true potential.”

“So why even bother?”

“Because I knew you were someone worth the effort,” Bruce replied with complete sobriety.

“Like Clark said, there _is_ something special about you, and I wanted to give that part of you a chance to grow and thrive.”

Jason closed his eyes and chuckled. “That’s what I thought…”

He ruffled an erratic hand behind his neck.

“I feel so stupid now. This never should’ve been something hard to say.”

Bruce felt his breath hitch when Jason reopened his eyes.

The young man’s wild sapphires always mesmerized the maestro, but nothing could prepare him for the clear blue serenity looking back at him now.

“Thank you, Bruce,” Jason smiled.

“Thank you for seeing something inside of me I didn’t know was there. Thank you for giving me a chance.”

He paused.

“And thank you for teaching me to love the piano.”

“Jason?” Bruce asked while looking at the gloved hand nervously clutching the top of the table.

“My heart was so empty, but then you walked into my life and gave it meaning. You taught me how to express myself through the piano, and because of that fact I truly understand now what it means to love.”

The hand moved and Jason looked at his leather wrapped palm.

“Yeah, it was heartbreaking when I lost the ability to play, but I…had I never known that love in the first place, I wouldn’t be where I am today, and I think learning to love is what healed and opened my heart, and also it’s the thing that gave me a second and even a third chance at life.”

He put his hand over his chest.

“Now when I look back on those times, I can only remember the happiness I felt when I use to play. It’s a little bittersweet, but sweet all the same, and now I’m at the church teaching those brats, and I finally understand why you helped me the way that you did.”

Jason’s smile deepened.

“It’s gratifying watching those little monsters grow, live… _love_.”

Bruce couldn’t have put it better himself, and only smiled back in agreement.

Jaso’sn warm gaze turned sheepish.

“Bruce, I should’ve told you all of this back then. You more that anyone deserved to hear it, and I’m sorry it took me so long to tell you…”

Bruce shook his head. “Jason, it doesn’t matter what _should’ve_ been, the only thing that matters to me right now is what _is_.”

Now Jason’s eyes were glossing. When he realized it, he quickly turned his face and mumbled.

“Damn, this is embarrassing. I’m no good at talking about stuff like this.”

“Neither am I.” Bruce chuckled.

“I guess it was always easier when we just used the piano…” Jason sighed.

Bruce’s eyes darkened. “Yeah… I guess maybe it was...”

He lowered his head so Jason couldn’t see his face.

“You know,” Jason added. “Even with this busted hand, I’m going to keep playing. I don’t care anymore if it’s just simple music for a beat up little church and a bunch of brats. Regardless, I love playing the piano, and it’s the first thing that brought life into my world, and I don’t ever want to give it up.”

Bruce’s lips pressed tighter together. What Jason was saying made a lot of sense, but for some reason, he just couldn’t find any words to respond.

Jason cleared his throat. “Anyways, that’s all I really have to say about that. Now for the other reason I came here today…”

He eyed Bruce wryly.

“So, you still hand out scholarships to kids who can make your stuffy prep school look good?”

Bruce smirked at Jason with matching amusement. “Always.”

“Perfect,” Jason declared. “Because I have this one kid I’ve been working with. Fastest hands I’ve ever seen. He even makes me look like a rookie.”

Bruce quirked a brow. “Well, that _is_ quite a feat. I would love to hear him play.”

“Great, I’m sure Bart will be excited.”

**********************************************************

After his talk with Jason, the two of them went out to dinner and caught up a little more. Back and forth they talked about their various students and teaching techniques. Though some of his methods were a bit _unorthodox_ , it seemed like Jason still picked up a lot of his practices from Bruce.

Bruce never thought Jason would end up following so closely in his footsteps but at the same time still go a completely different path. Then again, Jason had always been like that.

Bruce really meant it when he said he wanted to help Jason. Sure on the surface, he meant his abilities and skills at the piano, but what Bruce really saw in Jason was the potential of his heart.

He saw someone who knew how to passionately put himself into the things that he did but not given the support to help his spirit grow.

Part of the reason Bruce even became an instructor had nothing to do with passing on his legacy. What Bruce really wanted was to help nurture his students, and give them the support and opportunities he himself was never given.

_‘I refuse to let another one end up like me…’_

And Jason more than anyone was somebody who reminded Bruce of himself, a kid who lost his mother, and never saw eye to eye with his father, someone who seemed to have no direction in his life and was headed on a path of self-destruction. Bruce couldn’t let someone with such a fiery soul be snuffed out.

He really thought he was helping Jason, but after raising the boy to high heights with the intent of flourishing far beyond anything Bruce had ever achieved, it only made his fall even more devastating.

Bruce truly believed he’d been the sole perpetrator who ruined Jason’s soul. Had he never pushed him so far, Jason never would’ve grown to love the music he would eventually lose.

It must’ve been heartbreaking, and Bruce more than anyone could understand how Jason felt.

Bruce really saw a lot of himself in Jason, but he never thought he would end up just like him. That he would put so much of his heart into something only to have it cruelly taken away.

But was he really the same? Had Jason really ended up just like Bruce?

_Thank you, Bruce._

_Thank you for teaching me to love the piano._

_Yeah it was heartbreaking when I lost the ability to play, but I…had I never known that love in the first place, I wouldn’t be where I am today._

_Learning to love is what healed and opened my heart._

No, just like Bruce always thought, Jason was similar but never really the same.

Bruce should’ve known better. Jason’s may have been knocked down, but a spirit like his could never truly be destroyed.

Why had Bruce given up hope? Why did he assume history would repeat itself? Why did he think Jason would be better off giving up? That running away from the thing that caused him pain and closing his heart would protect him.

_Tell me Bruce…is it really better to survive this world than actually live in it?_

Bruce couldn’t forget Clark’s words. Even after all these months they haunted him because deep in his heart, he knew the answer, and Jason showing up today only confirmed the truth even more.

"'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all."

Bruce let out a small laugh. Never had those words meant more to him than they did now.

Still, as much as his heart hurt, he still couldn’t deny the happiness he felt once he decided to move forward again.

Finally his life was falling back into place. When he put a frozen wall of protection around his heart, it wasn’t the only thing that stopped moving.

Bruce’s life was at a standstill since then. Every day he just went through the motions trying to survive and get to the next day.

Sure it kept him from having to deal with heartbreak, and honestly, Bruce just wasn’t sure he could take another blow.

His heart was already in shambles, and he was afraid.  
  
Afraid that something so battered and broken, something barely pieced together, would be destroyed beyond repair, and if it was, would he be lost completely?

Bruce knew he just didn’t have the strength on his own to survive.

_If something’s wrong, I want to know. I want to help…_

_It doesn’t have to be this way. It’s not too late for you, and this time you don’t have to go at it alone._

What was Clark trying to tell him that day?

_…that’s just the nature of hoping, and no matter how this all ends…_

Bruce laughed out again, but this time his voice shuddered with regret.

Why didn’t he realize it till now?

Clark was a broken man and so was Bruce. Neither was strong enough to get past the tragedies of their life alone but together-

_(we’ll) get through this together._

Bruce had been so resolved to push Clark away he completely shut off the man and his words. Why didn’t he listen a little closer back then?

Still, even regardless of Bruce shutting him out, Clark was still true to his word.

_‘Damian…Selina….Jason…’_

One by one, relationships were being repaired, but what had pushed him, or rather who?

Bruce promised never to open his heart up again because he was afraid of being hurt.

That’s why he never had the courage to face Damian. Never had the nerve to look for Jason, and shut himself off completely from people like Selina and Dick and even his students.

So what had changed in his life to make him finally take another leap of faith?

_Why do you keep running away?_

_-you refuse to face Jason, and at the rate you’re going, you won’t ever face your son._

Clark forced him to finally face the truth he tried so desperately to turn away from.

_I admit, this world is full of nothing but pain and tragedy, and it’s so easy just to want to give up, but I…we can’t lose hope, and that’s why we won’t._

_We?_

Bruce could still remember how much his heart quickened when he heard those words, and now he understood why.

Even though he would never admit it, even though he tried to tell his heart otherwise, the thing Bruce so desperately wanted more than anything-

_I can’t help but chase after something. Anything to fill the hole, and for that reason, I can’t help but find myself gravitating towards people like you._

More than anything Bruce wanted to _feel_ again. To laugh, to love, to even cry, Bruce wanted those feelings back in his life. He was tired of being lonely, he was tired of only helping others move on with their lives while he waited and watched from the sidelines.

During the short time he spent with Clark, Bruce was able to experience it all and had they stayed together, he would’ve come to know even more.

His heart always shook with fear at the thought of finally letting go, finally trusting himself to another person, but was that really such a bad thing?

_You’re a good man, Clark_

_-I will have many sweet memories when I look back at our time together._

Bruce meant every word. Even though he said it so callously at the time, he really meant what he said.

Clark was a kind and warm person. How many times did Bruce lose himself to Clark’s smile?

Many times, Bruce had approached people in order to get an emotional fix, but Clark was never someone he intended to get involved with. In actuality, Clark was the one who pursed him. Even though it’d been such an unconscious choice, Clark admitted that Bruce was the one he’d chosen.

Bruce tried to fight it, but he just couldn’t resist. The pull of Clark’s heart was too strong, just too contagious.

Being with Clark, reminded Bruce how good it felt to let his heart feel again. It almost made him forget his promise, _forget his fear_.

Still, in the end, Bruce defaulted to the life he knew would keep him safe, or so he thought.

Clarks’ voice, his words, his feelings, none of it ever truly left Bruce, and because of Clark’s influence, Bruce finally found the courage to reach out to his son.

He finally found the resolve to forgive Selina, and now, without even directly trying, he brought Jason back to his life as well.

_‘Clark!’_

Bruce didn’t even have to think twice as he grabbed his car keys and dashed out the manor.

_‘Why was I such an idiot?’_

Now he was speeding down the streets of late night Gotham.

_‘Why did I give up on you…on **us**?’_

He was racing down the terminal.

_‘I get it now, Clark. I finally understand!’_

Bruce met so many devastating heartbreaks in his life, and each time he faced them alone, but when he let Clark into his life, the man helped and supported him until Bruce finally found the strength to face and realize his fears.

Clark hadn’t been around to hurt him. Clark just wanted to love Bruce and make him happy, and now thanks to him, love and happiness was finally returning to Bruce’s life.

Sure Clark’s guidance had been enough to push Bruce’s heart and make it move, but Bruce knew none of it truly felt complete without him.

_‘I want to be with you again.’_

The five hour flight to Central city was maddening.

_‘I want to hold you again.’_

He hailed a taxi.

_‘I want to see your smile, hear your laugh...’_

Thanks to Damian and Jon’s close friendship, Bruce was easily able to find Clark’s address.

_‘I miss you Clark.’_

He was only a block away.

_‘I love you…’_

He got out the taxi. His heart was racing and had been since the moment he left the manor. It was alive, it was moving, and Bruce never felt happier in his life.

That is until he finally saw him.

The smile that Bruce so urgently sought, the laugh he so desperately wanted to hear, he thought it would bring him joy, but it didn’t.

“Clark,” the woman laughed while playfully pushing the man.

Though she had a small frame and was probably half the man’s size, Clark teetered and pretended to lose his balance. In the process, though, he actually tripped. When he started to fall, the woman’s emerald eyes enlarged, and she reached out to pull him back.

Her attempt to save the man failed miserably and before she knew it, both of them were falling to the ground. Luckily, Clark was swift enough to catch her and took the brunt of their fall.

“Clark Kent!” She huffed while still sitting in his lap. “Why are you always so hopelessly clumsy?”

Though he looked embarrassed with his crooked glasses slipping off his bridge, the man laughed without any remorse.

“Well, I can’t help it if a woman like you is always knocking me off my feet.”

The flush on her face nearly turned as red as her hair and she pushed him again.

“You think your smooth don’t you?”

Clark finally stood up and offered her his hand.

“Of course not, that’s why I have you.”

She smiled at him appreciatively and happily accepted his hand.

“And don’t you forget it,” she snickered while flicking the little curl in his hair that always fell out of place.

Bruce’s fluttering heart had completely stopped, and he felt his knees go weak.

“I’m…” he trembled before quickly turning behind the nearest corner and steadying himself. “I’m too late…”

He combed a hand through his hair but stopped to let his forehead rest against his palm.

“Of course Clark moved on,” Bruce chuckled. “An amazing person like him…”

Bruce couldn’t understand why he was laughing. Not when the only thing he wanted to do right now was cry.

Maybe it was because he was trying desperately to cope with everything swirling in his head and in his chest, or maybe it was just the sheer irony of it all?

To think after he finally accepted his feelings, when he finally decided to move forward, the one person he wanted by his side had already left him behind.

_‘It’s my own fault, really…’_

Bruce’s empty smile quivered and his body crouched lower towards the ground.

_‘This is what I said I wanted. I told Clark to move on, and I got exactly what I asked for…’_

The earlier shaking in his legs started to spread to the rest of his body.

 _‘During your time of need, I should’ve been there for you. I should’ve supported you just like you did for me, but I…_ ’

Bruce gasped and stifled back the shudder trembling in his throat.

_‘This is good. This is how things should be.’_

Bruce laughed out again but for some reason it sounded more like a sob.

_‘Clark deserves to be happy. I want Clark to be happy. I’m glad Clark is happy...’_

Bruce was practically gasping for air. The weight bearing down on his heart was suffocating.

_‘So why-’_

Bruce was now clawing at his chest.

 “Why does it hurt so much?”

To be continued…

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is just an AU, but really, I wish Bruce and Jason could’ve had a talk like this in canon. Since they never really did, I made it happen in this story (hey, what’s fanfiction for?).
> 
> Haha, I guess if Jason really reconciled with Bruce in the comics, he wouldn’t be the same badboy angst child we know and love, but its okay. I will give you a happy ending here <3
> 
> As for Bruce and Clark, well I don’t want to say much about them and give away the ending (which this story is very close to), but just know it will all work out in the end. I know sometimes things in this story have been predictable, but I hope I still have a few more surprises left for everyone ;)
> 
> Well, as always, thank you so much for all your support. This story has been ongoing for nearly year, and I may have given up on it a time or two, so know that your encouragement has really kept me going, and I hope you will continue to enjoy this story till the end!
> 
> Chapter’s tile is named after Claude Debussy’ _Clair de Lune_ :
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4fvo_iOuSck
> 
> I think this song really encompasses Bruce in a lot of ways, especially at this point in the story, but maybe at other times too. It’s such a sad yet beautiful song. Also, I found out it was based off a famous poem, and reading the lyrics kind of hit home:
> 
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Clair_de_Lune_(poem)


	34. Chant sans paroles (Singing without Words)

Nearly a year had gone by since the day they parted ways, but even now, Bruce still couldn’t forget Clark’s presence in his life.

Sure he was still the same strict somewhat standoffish piano maestro, but now everything in his heart had changed.

No longer did Bruce try to maintain an indefinite barrier between him and his students. Once again, he openly attended student’s concerts and even started to be involved in many of the school and community music programs he once gave up.

Bruce’s mind was made up. He didn’t want to shut off his heart from the world again. Sure doing so meant he’d be protecting himself, but at the same time, it also meant he could never experience life again.

Bruce also learned that giving up on himself also meant giving up on the people he cared about, and there were just too many worthwhile people he’d come to love for him to lose hope.

Selina, Dick, Jason, Damian…Clark…

Without even realizing it, each one had touched Bruce’s life.

Selina was the one who nurtured Bruce’s love for the piano and taught him how to follow his heart. Before he met her, he’d been resolved with going through life as another legacy caught in a loop of family tradition. Thanks to her, he learned living someone else’s life would never make him happy.

It hurt to lose his mother, and he knew he disappointed his father, but at the same time, had he gone through the motions and done what he was told, he never really would’ve been satisfied. At least now he knew the direction he chose was the one he decided for himself.

Rather than blame Selina for the rift between him and his family, he finally decided to embrace his choices. Bruce needed to decide his own future, make his own mistakes, find his own happiness, and live his own life.

_What I want is for you to be happy._

_You’re father just wants you to have a good life, but none of us knows what will make you happy. That’s why it’s something you have to decide for yourself…_

Those were some of the last words Bruce’s mother left him with. How could Bruce forget something so important?

Sometimes tragedy hits so fast and so hard, it has the ability to muddy up all the good in a person’s life, but Bruce couldn’t, _no_ , he wouldn’t forget those things again. Rather than let the bad consume him, he needed to let go of the past and learn from his mistakes.

Sure he’d fallen time and time again, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t stumble into a better life. That’s why Bruce knew one of the choices he should never regret was his decision to become an instructor.

At the time, it was a profession he’d taken for the sake of his own self goals, but what he ended up with at the end was so much more than he could’ve wished.

Watching and helping his students live and grow was beyond rewarding.

Dick was the first one to teach him that.

Such a talented young pianist with a passion for music and for life reminded Bruce what it meant to put your whole heart and soul into something, and how much happiness it could bring.

Had he never accepted Dick and acknowledged his success, Bruce probably would’ve lost all hope in the world of music, but Dick taught him helping others was another way to achieve happiness.

He’d really have to thank Dick properly one day for guiding him towards the path of instructing. It’d been one of the few things that kept his life from going completely dark, but Bruce ended up stumbling again after losing both his father and his son.

It wasn’t until he realized he needed to clean up his life to be with Damian, that Alfred reminded Bruce how rewarding instructing once was and convinced Bruce to take a position with the GSPA. Alfred knew what he was doing, and in the end, becoming an instructor saved Bruce’s life.

Then tragedy struck again.

Bruce really thought Jason was the one he failed.

Once again, pain and heart ache clouded Bruce’s life. So much so, he’d forgotten how much instructing brought joy not only to his world, but to his students as well.

_Thank you for seeing something inside of me I didn’t know was there. Thank you for giving me a chance._

_My heart was so empty, but then you walked into my life and gave it meaning. You taught me how to express myself through the piano, and because of that fact I truly understand now what it means to love_

Bruce had seen so much of himself in Jason, and there were so many parallels between their lives.

Bruce was also a boy who never understood the meaning of love until he embraced the piano.

Then misfortune struck his life, and Bruce threw it all the way. Rather than embrace what he loved, he cursed it and turned his back.

_Yeah, it was heartbreaking when I lost the ability to play, but I…had I never known that love in the first place, I wouldn’t be where I am today_

_Now when I look back on those times, I can only remember the happiness I felt when I use to play. It’s a little bittersweet, but sweet all the same-_

Those words couldn’t be truer.

To think the one he once taught would be the one teaching him.

Jason only proved to Bruce that even despite being knocked down you should never give up. That you are the person who decides your own fate, and even from sorrow, hope and new life can be born. That you only really lose at life once you allow it to beat you.

To think the seed he planted would grow and thrive into something far surpassing him both in spirit and in heart

Then again, wasn’t that the thing that first drew him to the boy? Sure Bruce saw a lot of himself in Jason, but at the same time, he had higher hopes for him. Bruce knew Jason could become something better than him, and in the end, he did.

_Regardless, I love playing the piano, and it’s the first thing that brought life into my world, and I don’t ever want to give it up._

Unlike Bruce, Jason never gave up and even ended up following his own path. Watching his former student, Bruce finally understood that he needed to do the same.

That’s why, even though it hurt to discover Clark moved on, Bruce couldn’t give up.

Admittedly, he was devastated the day they were reunited. To think when he finally realized his feelings and opened up his heart, it would be broken again.

So many years he tucked away it, afraid he would never be able to recover the shattered pieces, but he was wrong.

Maybe the old Bruce would’ve given up. Maybe the old Bruce would’ve shut down. Maybe the old Bruce would’ve hardened himself and gone completely cold, but not this time.

At the time, it hurt so much Bruce felt _actual_ physical pain. Just breathing alone was agony and his heart throbbed so badly he had to grip it to subdue the sting.

Even now when he looked back on that moment, his pulse would quicken and his heart would ache, but even the sting of sadness was proof he was still alive, that his heart wasn’t completely gone.

If it really was, then he wouldn’t feel anything at all, but he did.

He still felt all the love in his heart for Clark, the man who proved that despite how much it could hurt, love was something worth taking a chance on.

The way Clark touched Bruce, it wasn’t merely physical. Even though Bruce thought that was all he needed.

_Just a relationship that looks good on the surface where neither of us gets any closer than anything physical and superficial-_

In the past, that was all he ever looked for. Just enough to sustain him but nothing valuable or lasting.

Clark wanted more though, and now Bruce understood why.

Even today, even after a year of separation, remembering everything Clark meant and did for him still gave Bruce the strength to _truly_ live.

Clark taught Bruce how to love again, beyond what was comfortable and insincere. The time they spent together was the happiest Bruce could remember being in such a long time.

Bruce had forgotten how good it felt. His past pain clouded the memory of those feelings, but Clark forced him to open his eyes, and because of that fact, Bruce was able to find courage to open his heart to his family and friends.

Thanks to Clark, Bruce was more than just _safe_ , Bruce was _happy_.

That’s why, regardless of realizing his feelings too late, regardless of losing Clark, Bruce knew he could never give up again.

The least he could do to thank Clark for all that he’d done was take the things he taught him and hold onto them. It was the only way Bruce knew how to honor their time together and never forget the love he would always treasure.

Still, despite being resolved to move forward, one simple fact wouldn't change.

_‘I still miss you…’_

“Father, are you ready?”

Bruce’s eyes flickered. The heavy thoughts clouding his azures vanished, and he was back on the same plane with his son.

Over the last year, so much had happened between them.

Bruce became Damian’s accompanist, and it was the first step towards them finally becoming closer.

“He admires you a lot.” Selina told Bruce several months back.

“I don’t really see why. We don’t even play the same instrument…”

Selina couldn’t help but let out an incredulous laugh. “You think that actually matters?”

Bruce’s own skeptical expression didn’t change.

She blew her bangs with frustration.

“Bruce, you’re his father. What boy doesn’t look to his dad hoping he’s a man worth striving to be like and growing up to make proud?”

Selina’s words struck a chord. Honestly, Bruce really could understand those feelings.

“You know, even before you became his accompanist that boy was always chasing after your shadow trying to get you to acknowledge him.”

Bruce’s brow perked. “Really?”

“Wow, for one of the smartest guys I know, sometimes you don’t have a clue,” Selina chuckled.

“When I first started to instruct him, you know what that little brat told me?”

_When it comes to your reputation you are a more than questionable woman, but I am willing to overlook your less that reputable conduct because you are the one violinist father acknowledges as his better, and I intend to be the next._

“Can you believe the nerve of your little spawn?” Selina huffed though her face looked more amused than upset. “And now that you two started to play together, the only thing I ever hear from him is, _I have to practice harder. I have to get better. I won’t be satisfied until I best him_.”

“I see…” Bruce mumbled with a slight quirk about his lips.

After that, Bruce took Selina’s words to heart, and started to help push Damian even further.

They would spend weekends together practicing at the manor, traveling abroad for competitions, attending concerts, and Damian even started meeting Bruce after he was done with lessons or class.

Sure everything started off as Damian being driven to surpass Bruce, but the more time they spent together, the more comfortable and natural it felt when they were.

Having the boy play beside him, sit across from him whenever they shared meals, carrying him to bed when he fell asleep at his desk or in front of the TV. These kind of simple things meant more than anything to Bruce.

Watching Damian grow as a musician and as a person, it was all Bruce ever wanted. From the moment that tiny fragile little hand first held his own, Bruce knew he never wanted to let it go, and Bruce realized now, it never really did. If anything, it was clutching even tighter, and Bruce would do everything in his power to help nurture it and help it strengthen and grow.

“Alright, Damian, let’s start after the fourth measure on the second page. You’ve already more than mastered the introduction, so let’s work on mastering the next part.

“Of course,” Damian smirked. “I already practiced it over the weekend so be prepared to be impressed when you hear how much I improved.”

Bruce’s lips curled. “Well then...”

After that, the two started to play, and just as Damian boasted, he’d more than exceeded the maestro’s expectations. It was amazing how talented his son was. Sure he worked hard, but the level of skill for someone so young was beyond anything Bruce could’ve fathomed.

He’d be surpassing Bruce in no time, and Bruce couldn’t be prouder.

Bruce thought about stopping them after the reprise, but they had such a good momentum going, there was no point in interrupting the performance.

Honestly, Bruce still couldn’t find resolve to play the piano on his own, but when he performed with his son, it stirred feelings he thought he lost. Maybe Bruce would never truly regain his connection to the piano, but he was glad he could bond with his son through it.

Damian let out a long exaltation when they finished playing.

After performing with his dad, his heart would always race, and he felt like he was pushing himself past his own limitations both in skill and in emotions. It was something beyond exhilarating. Something he never experienced when he accompanied with anyone else, well, with the exception of one scrappy pianist.

The sound of clapping startled Damian but not as much as the voice that lauded after it.

“Wow, that was _amazing_!”

Damian nearly dropped his violin.

“J-Jon?”

Standing in the doorway with a bushel of messy hair that never looked combed was a bright grinning boy with wide admiring eyes.

“I can’t believe how lucky I am. So _this_ is what it sounds like to hear Damian and Maestro together.”

Damian’s mouth fell agape, and he slowly lowered his violin until it was carelessly slipping from his fingers. “Jon, you…”

The taller boy nodded. “The procedure was a success….”

Before arriving that day, he had such high expectations for his big reveal, but the way Damian was standing there with a pale expression, not moving or really reacting was making him suddenly feel nervous.

Not sure what else to say, Jon suddenly started to ramble.

“They used nanotech to simulate the undeveloped tissue in my ear, so actually, I can hear a lot better than before, and I-”

Before Jon could even finish his words, Damian was suddenly racing towards him. Jon’s eyes first fell to Damian’s instrument which finally dropped to the ground.

Damian’s violin was sacred to him. To see him treat it so haphazardly was definitely a sight to see.

Jon then looked back up, only to swallow a sharp intake of air. Damian was already on him, and Jon barely had time to prepare himself for what came next.

Jon expected a hug, but received a violent punch and a shove instead.

“Why did you not tell me immediately after your surgery you were okay?!”

Jon held his throbbing arm before suddenly noticing the furious flush his friend was failing to hide.

“Damian?”

“You idiot!” a nearly teary-eyed Damian growled. “You made me worry for nothing!”

Damian already knew Jon had a procedure. It’d been his third one that year, and Jon was always quick to let Damian know how it went. However, when he didn’t respond right away, Damian couldn’t help but feel worried.

Sure Jon always needed a few days to recover, but now nearly a week had gone by, and Damian just couldn’t help but worry Jon’s recovery didn’t go well.

Of course, Bruce assured him Clark would’ve contacted him if something was wrong, but what other reason could Damian fathom for Jon’s prolonged silence?

The contrary greeting was not at all what Jon had expected. Was Damian happy or angry?

That’s when he noticed the tears welling up in his friend’s eyes.

“I’m sorry, Damian,” Jon quickly apologized in a panic. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“I hate surprises!” Damian snapped.

“Haha, I know,” Jon guiltily laughed.

He’d been so excited he overlooked the fact that what he did probably worried Damian.

After a year of agonizing silence, Jon could finally hear again. It was like a dream come true. Also, not only did they manage to recover the loss in his left ear, but the right one that hadn’t worked since birth was restored as well.

Jon was so unbelievably happy, but more than anything he was anxious. There were so many sounds he wished to experience, but not many more than the voice of his best friend.

As soon as he was admitted out of the hospital, he begged his dad to take him back to Gotham which Clark happily complied. Sure he could’ve called, but that wasn’t enough. Jon wanted to hear Damian clearly and for the first time like never before.

Damian was still cursing under his breath when Jon finally willed the nerve to hug him.

At first, Damian stiffened but he eventually accepted it by hiding his puffed up face in Jon’s shirt and mumbling. “You are an idiot, _Kent_.”

“Yup,” Jon laughed.

Damian let out a long sigh and gave up on his anger.

“I am glad you can hear again…”

“Me too,” Jon smiled while holding on a little tighter.

Clark’s eyes remained fixated on the scene before him, and for the majority of the boys’ exchange so did Bruce’s. He then made the mistake of stealing a glance in Clark’s direction.

His heart skipped. Just as Bruce remembered, Clark’s smile was warm, gentle, and kind.

_‘Clark…’_

Damian’s voice exploded through Bruce’s thoughts. “What!? You are returning to the GSPA!?”

“Yeah,” Jon nodded.

Damian crossed his arms and frowned. “I see. Something else you failed to tell me.”

“N-no, it’s not like that at all!” Jon quickly tried to explain. “I originally came here only to see you, but we ran into headmaster Grange, and she said considering my circumstances, there shouldn’t be any reason I can’t come back.”

Damian narrowed his eyes.

“I wouldn’t be starting until next semester either and I still need to find a place to stay...”

Jon glanced at Damian with an expectant smile.

Damian turned his face away. He’d never admit it, but he really missed that careless grin Jon always shared so freely.

“I suppose I can bear dealing with you for another three years.” Damian groaned.

“Great!” Jon exclaimed.  

“But only if you are prepared to earn your place again as my accompanist.”

“R-really?” Jon stammered before peaking over at Bruce. “But you have someone amazing like Maestro-”

Damian quickly interrupted him. “I told you already, Jon, _you_ are my accompanist! Father merely stood in during your absence.”

Jon still looked apprehensive until Bruce gave him an encouraging nod.

Sure Bruce enjoyed accompanying Damian, but he knew how much this meant to both Damian and Jon. Also, now Bruce could confidently say he’d grown past only being Damian’s pianist, and he looked forward to them growing closer as father and son. Also, he still intended to support Damian with his abilities as both an instructor and his father.

“Well, then, let’s see if you can still keep up.”

Jon went wide-eyed. “R-right now?”  

“Yes, did you not say you were practicing all this time?”

“I have been, thanks to the drills Maestro taught so I could play when I couldn’t hear myself, but…”

“No buts! You are the one who came unannounced in the middle of my practice.” Damian huffed. “Now take responsibility and come with me.”

Jon gave Damian a perplexed look before his hand was suddenly snatched up.

“I want to hear what we sound like together in the new practice hall. Remember how I told you the one by our dorm was remodeled. Also I’m sure you will appreciate the improved sound quality.”

Now Jon was the one with the furious blush. Damian had never acted so familiar and enthusiastic before. It made Jon really happy to know how eager he was to play with him again.

Damian squeezed Jon’s hand a little tighter. “Stop dragging your feet, Kent!”

“Sure!” Jon agreed before looking back at Clark. “Do you mind, Dad?”

Clark took note of the blush Damian was trying to hide and the one Jon couldn’t. “Of course not,” he smiled.  “Go ahead, I’ll be around until you’re done.”

“Thanks!” Jon grinned before Damian abruptly dragged him out the room.

After they disappeared, the energy in the room dropped tremendously, and the only two left were Bruce and Clark.

Clark hadn’t said one word to Bruce, nor had he acknowledged him outside the small wave he gave when he and Jon first arrived.

Bruce really missed Clark, but what could he really do? What could he really say?

How does one react when the Ex you cruelly broke up with but realize you still love unexpectedly shows up at your door?

Bruce was at a loss and took to staring at Clark’s feet. Not much really changed. The man was wearing the same clunky loafers and had the same unhemmed slacks that always ran too long.

Bruce felt like he was holding his breath. He really thought Clark would’ve left by now, and honestly he wouldn’t blame him if he did.

Bruce didn’t even know when he closed his eyes. Maybe his body thought doing so would make everything disappear. The tightness in his throat, the pressure on his chest, the ache in his heart…Clark…

_‘Please…please just go away…’_

But he didn’t. Instead, Bruce was met with the last thing he expected.

Ever kind, every tender, ever gentle, Clark sweetly smiled and simply replied.

“Hi, Bruce.”

To Be Continued… 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone likes all the reunions going on lately! I didn’t realize how much fun Damian and Jon’s meeting would be. I hope everyone liked it too! Really, these characters were originally designed to be a small part of this fic, but somehow they managed to steal my heart <3
> 
> Well, I will admit, the last part of this fic has been very Bruce-centric, but I honestly think someone like Bruce can’t have a healthy relationship unless he is able to finally love and accept himself. So if you’re wondering why I got so much into his head the last few chapters, it’s because I really wanted to work on healing his heart before sending him off to his happy ending with Clark (not that Clark doesn’t need help too, but really he was much farther along than Bruce last we saw him, and I’ll finish taking care of him in the next chapter).
> 
> So back to Bruce…I don’t know who out there is reading this story and what is going on in your life, but if you feel you can really relate to Bruce, I hope that you can also understand that it’s never too late to live your life to the fullest. Yeah, it won’t always end with a storybook finish, but I hope in some small way this story passes on some hope. Even I’ve lived through some pretty hard times, but somehow there is always light shining on the other side of every storm cloud. So please, don’t give up on yourself, and I truly wish from the bottom of my heart you make it to your own happy ending <3
> 
> Heh, sorry, I think I got carried away. Though I will say the next chapter is finally the end, and I’ve thought so long about it so maybe my mind is a little extra sensitive right now.
> 
> Gah, I can’t believe we all made it this far. Maybe this story will be complete just in time for its one year anniversary in a few weeks (here’s hoping ;D)
> 
> So once again, thank you so much for all the kind words and support. None of this would’ve been possible without everyone’s support. It’s really meant so much to me. Truly I feel like this story has been worth writing, and I hope you will enjoy it to the end!
> 
> I was going to go with another sad love song, but really this is a hopeful chapter. Jon and Damian have reunited, Bruce has healed his heart, Clark and Bruce meet again!
> 
> So I ended up choosing Tchaikovsky - _Mélodie_ in E flat major aka Op. 42 No.3   _"Chant sans paroles"_ from _Souvenir d'un lieu cher (Memory of a Dear Place)_


	35. Odds & Ends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much everyone! I hope you like the ending <3

“Hi, Bruce.”

Bruce finally looked back up. The same warm smile Clark directed at Jon and Damian was now looking back at him.

“Clark…I…” his gaze drifted downwards. As much as he missed those kind eyes, it still hurt too much to see him.

“Congratulations to you both…” Bruce quietly replied.

“Thanks.”

Still refusing to look directly at him, Bruce really wasn’t sure how Clark took his words. It also didn’t help that Clark didn’t say anything afterwards.

Bruce couldn’t stand it. He had to fill the silence.

“I’m sure you two are more than ecstatic about the success of Mr. Kent’s operation…” Bruce honestly smiled. “I’m happy for you both.”

“Bruce…”

Something in Clark’s tone almost sounded wistful, but Bruce knew he was kidding himself. If you trick yourself hard enough, anything seems possible.

Clark cleared his throat and changed the subject. “So I hear you’ve been performing with Damian.”

“Yes.”

“Wow, I sure would’ve loved to hear that!”

Bruce didn’t miss the excitement in his voice. Typical, Clark always did love a good performance.

Bruce tried to peek at Clark’s face. That’s when Clark caught his glance and gave the maestro a dopey smile. “Ah, but I bet your practice just now was pretty close. No wonder you've both been doing so well on the competition scene.”

How did Clark know that? Had he asked about him? Was he keeping tabs?

Honestly, Bruce would be lying if he didn’t admit he tried to casually pry information about Clark from Damian on more than one account.

Once again, Bruce knew he was needlessly getting his hopes up. No doubt Jon mentioned it. Jon told Clark everything.

Bruce lowered his head to hide his disappointment.

“It’s mostly Damian’s work,” he shrugged. “I’m merely his backup.”

“Support.” Clark corrected. “That’s what accompanist and fathers do.”

“Well,” Bruce smiled. He then locked eyes with Clark. “You’re the one who taught me that.”

Clark looked confused. “Me?”

“Yes, watching you and Mr. Kent interact, even packing up your life not once, but twice for his sake…” Bruce’s lips tugged higher. “You’ve always been an inspiration, and I couldn’t help but watch and learn. Now thanks to you, Damian and I have never been closer.”

“Bruce, you’re giving me too much credit.”

“No!” Bruce adamantly professed. “I haven’t given you enough.”

Clark seemed a little startled by Bruce’s quick response.

Bruce realized what he did and took a moment to settle before calmly explaining. “Clark, I finally talked to Jason.”

Clark’s eyes widened. “You did?”

“Yes, he came to see me, but only after you went and talked to him first.”

Clark’s entire demeanor darkened. “Oh…you found out about that…”

There was no doubt in Bruce’s mind the reason why Clark looked so ashamed.

Bruce was so upset when he found out Clark meddled in his life. It was actually the thing that led to their break up. Bruce felt so betrayed and hurt back then, but now those feeling seemed distant afer a year of longing and separation.

They could’ve talked about it. At the time, their relationship wasn’t so far gone they couldn’t work it out, but Bruce’s mind was settled even before Clark went behind his back, and as wrong as Clark had been, there was still no winning. If anything, Clark only made things easier for Bruce.

Still, even despite everything, Clark's actions resulted in Bruce and Jason being reunited, and Bruce had to let Clark know. He _wanted_ to let him know, had to make it clear he’d finally forgiven him.

“Clark, Jason told me the words you left him with urged him to finally come and see me.”

Clark’s face brightened. “Ah?” He smiled. “Well, then I’m glad even despite everything, it helped a little.”

“More than just a little!” Bruce said with more enthusiasm.

“Bruce?”

Bruce shrank back a little when he realized what he did. “Clark, I…”

He paused. Finally, he was here, talking to the man who changed his life. What was he doing? What was he trying to say? What did he _need_ to say?

The earlier tightness weighing on his chest suddenly lifted with a settling realization.

“Thank you, Clark.”

Clark’s breath hitched when he saw Bruce's clear blue eyes. Had they always looked so stunning and resolved?

“My life, it finally started to move again, and none of it, none of _this_ , none of the happiness I’ve achieved would’ve been possible if not for you.”

“Damian and Jason, Selena, Dick, even all my students, I don’t know why I couldn’t realize it until you showed me. I was so afraid of getting hurt I turned my back on all the things that actually brought happiness into my life.”

He narrowed his gaze. “Including you.”

Clark opened his mouth as though he were about to say something but found no viable words.

Bruce’s expression warped to visible pain.

“I was…I am the biggest fool for pushing you out of my life. You were right. I’m a coward, Clark. I was so afraid. Since the moment we met, everything about you scared me.”

He shook his head.

“No, even before that, even back when I heard your beautiful songs, but after meeting you, the fear in my heart grew beyond anything I ever imagined, but I see that now. I finally understand after it’s already too late.”

Bruce’s grimace tightened.

“You deserve someone better than me. You always have. Someone as kind and understanding as you deserves everything you’ve given and so much more.”

The ache in his chest was returning as he remembered the woman with Clark. The two of them looked so happy together.

It was conceited of Bruce to think Clark could only smile like that for him, but at least it meant Clark was able to find someone to make him happy.

It was a hard pill to swallow, but Bruce conceded defeat that day and left without even confronting Clark. What right did he have to disrupt Clark’s happiness?

“I don’t deserve you. I threw you away. I didn’t give you what you wanted… _needed_ , and I have nothing worthwhile to offer you, but I…”

But? But what?

No, Bruce was resolved. When he left that day he made up his mind to never interfere in Clark’s life again.

“But still, regardless…”

His chest felt like it was on fire. He wanted the pain to go away, but if he said what was really in his heart…

“No matter how much I try to rationalize and reason it, even though I know I should leave you alone, just let you be…”

It didn’t matter anymore. Bruce didn’t care. He was a selfish man, and he didn’t care because…”

“Bruce…” Clark softly murmured, and just like always, that voice had the power to push Bruce’s heart past the lies.

“Clark, I love you!”

There he said it, and suddenly Bruce felt light and free. The pain was gone and all the honest feelings he locked away for so long came spilling from his lips.

“After my mother passed, I suffered such a devastating loss. So much so, I closed my heart and locked it inside the confinements of my fear.”

Bruce brought a hand to his chest and Clark followed the movement with his eyes.

“Then with each passing loss, fear ruled my heart until I became a prisoner.”

The hand over his chest fisted.

“I was weak. I didn’t want to ever feel that kind of pain again. So I guarded myself, tucked myself somewhere I thought I could never be touched.”

He met Clark’s gaze. The man’s eyes were wide, and he seemed fully captivated by Bruce’s words.

“Then you came along and tried to shatter those walls, but I couldn’t allow it and pushed you away. I knew if things continued on between us, someone weak like me never would’ve been able to resist, but I see now all the damage you dealt was already far past repair.”

Bruce let out a small laugh.

“The seed you placed inside me, it grew. It bloomed into something so large the walls of my fear came crumbling down.”

Now Bruce was smiling from the deepest part of his heart.

“Clark, you told me you could help me. That together we could get past the pain, and you didn’t break your promise. Everything you showed me, everything revealed, if not for your words, if not for your heart, I never would’ve…”

Clark was stunned beyond words when he saw Bruce’s face. The ever charming maestro looked so handsome and pure.

“I didn’t forget any of it. I took it all to heart, and just as you promised, all the happiness I abandoned so many years ago has returned to my life…except…” And then it all faded away. Bruce’s voice broke and so did his smile.

“Except there’s one thing I know I don’t deserve to have back…”

“Bruce…” Clark whispered, and he started to move forward.

Bruce quickly stepped back. “I’m not asking for your forgiveness. I just…I just wanted you to know. I wanted you to hear everything. You _deserve_ to hear it. You deserve to know everything you’ve done for me.”

Bruce’s mouth twitched into a painfully forced smile.

“Thank you, Clark. Thank you for teaching me it’s okay to love again. Even though a heart can never truly heal away its scars, it’s still okay to love, and even if I can’t ever forget someone like you, I won’t let sadness consume me again. You taught me that. You taught me to move on. You taught me how to live with all these scars.”

“Right here,” Bruce trembled while gripping his chest. “Here they are. Here _you_ are, but I…it’s okay.”

Bruce could feel his eyes growing heavy. He really was happy to finally confess everything to Clark, but at the same time it hurt so much.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized though he really wasn’t sure what for. Maybe it was because he felt ashamed.

Why was he telling Clark all these things, as if any of it would make a difference? Why couldn’t he just let Clark be happy? Sure he wanted to thank him, but letting Clark know how much he still loved him, and how much it was hurting Bruce. There was no way somebody like Clark would easily overlook it.

Bruce hated that he was so weak. He should’ve been stronger and kept it to himself.

“I’m sorry,” Bruce choked. “I really do want you to be happy, even if that happiness doesn’t include me. That’s why I need to…”

He could hardly will back his tears once he realized what he was trying to say.

An open confession where Bruce held nothing back, he had to do it. If he didn’t, if he kept anything else inside his heart, he’d never be able to move on.

Bruce closed his eyes tightly and finally willed his last words.

“Goodbye, Clark.”

Clark was stunned motionless when Bruce brushed past him.

Bruce had to leave. If he didn’t now, he wouldn’t have the courage to do what needed to be done. Just a few more steps, and it would be over, just a few more inches.

His fingers barely grazed the door when he felt a hand grab his wrist and a voice desperately shout back.

“Bruce, wait!”

Bruce’s eyes were still closed, but he felt his world spinning.

“C-Clark?” Bruce stammered once he mind started to process what was going on.

There was warmth not only inside his chest, but also engulfing his entire body.

A familiar and never forgotten scent, strong protective arms, a broad chest flush against his face, Bruce never thought he would experience this tender all-encompassing embrace again.

“You silly maestro,” Clark sighed while squeezing Bruce tightly. “I thought you said you were done running away.”

Bruce couldn’t hold back anymore and immediately returned Clark’s hug. “Clark...”

For a moment, time felt like it was standing still, and the only thing Bruce wanted to feel was the sensation of being held and holding onto the one he loved dearly, but Bruce knew life wasn’t about standing in place, and eventually Clark pulled away.

“Geez, Bruce,” he laughed, and that was the moment when Bruce felt his heart skip back on beat.

It was a beautiful sound to hear sweeping past Clark’s lips.

Clark was smiling warmly and brought up his hands to cup Bruce’s face. “Oh Bruce,” he sighed before shaking his head.

“You always think you have everything figured out, but really…” he grinned and brought their foreheads together. “Sometimes you just have no clue.”

Bruce frowned. How could Clark look so sweet yet be so condescending at the same time?

The earlier tears that were held back were threatening to breach due to frustration. “I know that, damn it!” he shouted while pushing Clark away. “I-I’m still new at this, okay!”

Clark’s snickers turned to laughter.

“It’s fine. It’s okay.” His smile slightly waned. “I’m not much better myself, and I’m really not as great as you think.”

“Bruce, I…” the lightness in Clark’s voice fell sober. “Bruce I never stopped loving you either.”

“What?” Bruce balked, but Clark’s guilty expression only confirmed what he said.

“How could I, Bruce?”

Bruce felt his pulse racing, but was still too cautious to get his hopes up.

“But what about that woman?” he asked.

Clark’s nose wrinkled. “Woman? What woman?”

“The red-headed woman I saw you with when I-” Bruce caught himself too late. He never intended to tell Clark about his spontaneous visit to Central City, but it was already too late.

“Saw me with…” Clark mumbled while scrunching his brow. “When did you…”

Realization lit up is face.

“Do you mean Lana?”

Bruce felt heat rise to his face when he heard Clark’s laughter.

“Bruce, she’s my best friend. We’re practically family!”

Embarrassment, frustration, and anger boiled all at once.

Unbelievable! Bruce suffered for well over six months all on account of some misunderstanding?

“Stop laughing. This isn’t funny!”

Clark covered his mouth, but still let a few lose snickers slip. “Bruce, you really are too much.”

He hugged the maestro again, but this time Bruce didn’t feel so warm and affectionate about it.

Then again, even despite his irritation, Bruce couldn’t deny the happiness he felt being held by Clark again.

Finally Clark’s laughter died down. That’s when Bruce felt a head drop to his shoulder and heard a weary exaltation brush his ear.

“I’m sorry, Bruce.”

“What?” Bruce asked. Did Clark really think Bruce was upset? Sure he wasn’t happy about the misunderstanding, but he that didn’t mean he was actually angry with Clark.

Clark shook his head. He knew Bruce was misunderstanding.

“Bruce, I’m sorry I wasn’t a stronger man.”

Bruce tried to pull away and look at Clark’s face. “What are you even-”

Clark held onto Bruce tighter so he couldn’t move and slumped lower so his face was hidden in Bruce’s neck.

“I let you go. I let you run away. After hearing all those stories and learning the truth, I knew what kind a man you were. I knew you were scared. I knew you were afraid, but even still, I let you run away, because I…” even though he whispered, Bruce heard Clark’s voice shake. “I wasn’t strong…”

“Why should you have been?” Bruce scoffed. “I’m the one who turned my back on you. You didn’t have any obligation.”

“No, you’re wrong! I did!”

Bruce felt his worry rise. Was Clark trembling?

“Clark?”

Now Clark was gripping him almost uncomfortably tight.

“Bruce, I made up my mind. I made up my heart. I loved you…I _love_ you and because of that I justified walking all over your life because I thought I was prepared to protect you, but I...”

His voice choked on what vaguely sounded like a sob.

“Clark…” Bruce lulled.

“Bruce, you are someone definitely worth fighting for, but just like Lois and Jon, I failed you.”

“No, Clark-” Bruce started to protest.

“Yes, I did, and do you know the reason why?”

Finally Clark released Bruce. His glasses were askew, but Bruce could still see the visible pain in his eyes.

“I couldn’t let go. I couldn’t take my ring off...”

“The ring?” Bruce murmured before his eyes went large, and he looked at Clark’s hand.

It was gone. There was still vague discoloration from years of never being removed, but the fact still remained it was no longer there.

Now there was no doubt left in Bruce’s mind over Clark’s sincerity, but he still couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt.

“Clark, listen to me,” Bruce soothed while trying to get Clark to raise his head back up. “You have no reason to blame yourself for that. I could’ve been more patient and understanding. I should’ve just talked to you about it, but I didn’t because…” Bruce shamefully sighed. “I purposely didn’t because I wanted a way out. I knew how stubborn you were, but using something like that against you would’ve been the best way to drive you away, and it did…”

Clark shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I still should’ve taken it off.”

“Clark listen-”

“No, Bruce!” Clark snapped, though Bruce knew the one Clark was really lashing out at was himself. “I absolutely should’ve taken it off! I knew how much it hurt you, but I couldn’t bear to part with it…”

Bruce was at a loss. Sure the ring bothered him, but not as much as one would think. Even though he knew he wasn’t someone who could compete with Lois, Clark still loved him. Had they just talked it out, then they certainly would’ve worked through it, but Bruce didn’t want to. Instead he said so many hurtful things.

He knew exactly where to break Clark, and seeing him now, Bruce understood how much his words had weighed on the man’s heart.

Then again, even despite Bruce’s cruel intentions, maybe they really were things Clark needed to hear.

“Bruce, you weren’t the only one who was afraid.”

The taller man removed his glasses and started to restlessly rub his bridge.

“I loved Lois so much. I thought if I took my ring off, I’d be betraying that love, betraying _her_.”

He covered his face and laughed dejectedly into his hand.

“I’m such a _hypocrite_ …such an _idiot_. How could I spout so arrogantly about you moving on, when I couldn’t do it myself?”

Finally be placed his frames back on and looked at Bruce.

Just moments ago the man looked completely shaken, but now something about his expression was as calm and clear as his voice.

“When you accused me of all those things, I really started to question my heart and doubt all the reasons Id fallen in love with you. Was I really just looking for the comfort of Lois inside of you and if that were the case, did I even have the right to be with you?”

Bruce didn’t answer and instead stood silent and trapped by Clark’s eyes.

“I know the truth now,” Clark smiled. “That’s why I have something for you.”

Bruce’s face twisted to confusion, and he watched with curiosity as Clark started to fumble for something inside the satchel slung over his shoulder.

“What’s this?” Bruce asked when he was handed a folder.

Clark didn’t answer and only motioned for Bruce to open it.

Realizing Clark wasn’t going to tell him, Bruce hesitantly complied.

The moment his eyes fell on its contents his breath hitched and all noise in the world beyond Clark’s voice disappeared.

“The last year we were apart. I never stopped thinking about you.”

The maestro’s hands started to shake.

“I knew I had no right to call you again. Not after I let you down. Not after I refused to fight, but I had to get my feelings out. It felt like my heart would burst otherwise. So I did it the only way I really know how.”

“Y-you…” Bruce’s voice trembled.

Clark’s smile arced.

“I always knew you were beautiful, Bruce, right down to your very soul.”

Now the maestro’s vison was blurring.

“It took almost the entire year we were apart, but I finally managed to write down everything you mean to me.”

Bruce couldn’t even see the notes anymore. The tears he’d been holding back were now spilling freely and obscuring his sight.

“Maestro Bruce Wayne, a man who devotes himself to the happiness of his students.”

“Cla…” Bruce choked as he continued to sift through all the pages he was holding even despite being unable to see straight.

“Bruce Wayne, a struggling father who desperately loves and supports his son.”

“…rk…”

“Bruce, a kind friend, a loving son…”

One, two, three, ten, on and on they didn’t seem to end. Why were there so many pages?

Bruce finally stopped shuffling through the score, but Clark’s words were still penetrating his ears and searing his heart.

“Bruce…the man I love. The one who pulled my heart from the grave.”

Bruce finally gave up looking through the music and looked at Clark with question.

He was met with a tender gaze and an even softer smile.

“Bruce, I couldn’t write just one. There isn’t a single song in this world that encompasses everything you are.”

Clark chuckled and Bruce felt his heart flutter.

“Nothing to offer? Who are you kidding? You’re the one who breathed life back into my world.”

Clark leaned in closer, his brilliant blues never once losing sight with Bruce’s blurry sapphires.

“I get it now. That day I first heard you, I wasn’t stricken by your performance because I thought you were Lois, I was just stunned and in disbelief anyone besides her could move my heart again.”

Clark let out a resigned sigh.

“I admit, I thought I saw Lois in you at first, but now I know that wasn’t the case. If anything, Lois only guided me to you, and I…”

Clark paused and his face slightly warped as though he were just realizing something for the first time and struggling to put it together. Finally his thoughts came into words, and he reached a hand out towards Bruce.

“The moment I first heard you play, I was hopelessly in love and everything after that, all the time we spent together, every story I heard, every moment we shared, it only confirmed in my heart everything I felt on that first day you played.”

“Clark…” Bruce murmured while leaning towards the oncoming caress.

“I wrote this opus in your memory, Bruce. I didn’t think I could ever write again, but you shook my heart completely and inspired me to do the impossible.”

Clark’s hand suddenly stopped and he started to withdraw it. “But I never thought I would get a chance to share it…”

He lowered his head.

“I wanted to see you so badly all this time, but I couldn’t face you…”

Now his eyes were squeezing, and he was struggling to hold back tears.

“I should’ve fought harder. I never should’ve let you go. I really don’t deserv-”

“Shut up, Clark!”

The sound of pages fluttering in the air drowned out Clark’s remaining words, and when he opened his eyes, a flurry of papers was flying around them.

“Bru-”

The words stopped abruptly inside his throat and two arms wrapped around his neck and pulled their lips together.

Without skipping a beat, Clark captured Bruce’s waist and pulled him in even closer to deepen their kiss.

How many sleepless nights did he dream of this moment? To taste and touch his beautiful maestro was all he could ever wish for.

Months of longing, a year of separation, Clark never would’ve endured all this time had he not completely devoted his heart and time to caring for Jon and writing Bruce’s opus.

He could still remember the day he first picked up his pen.

No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t get Bruce out of his mind.

_‘Bruce’s eyes…Bruce’s smile…Bruce’s voice.’_

Clark thought his heart would quiet after the first song, but it only yearned and cried out more until he found himself writing song after song.

To think after all these years, the thing that stopped him from composing would stir him again.

When he lost Lois, heartbreak left him so empty and cold, but when he lost Bruce, his heart ached until he only found relief in writing.

How bittersweet it was. Composing after so many years, but writing each note only remind him of the one he lost.

It hurt so much. He thought several times about quitting, but then his mind always came back to one resounding thought.

_‘If I can’t have Bruce in life, I will have him in song!’_

So Clark wrote, hoping eventually his heart would calm, but someone like Bruce was boundless, a man worth a million notes.

Clark’s heart felt heavy with loss but at the same time it was free. Bruce changed his life and liberated the composer who’d been chained down by loss.

Clark never thought he could love again, but Bruce came into his life and completely transformed his perceptions.

_‘It’s okay to move forward. It’s okay to try again. If I hadn’t, then I never would’ve met Bruce, and truly that would’ve been a tragedy…’_

So even if it took another ten years and a million more songs to move on, Clark would never lose his way again. Bruce had shown him that. Shown him there were still so many beautiful souls left to love and to write about.

“Clark…” Bruce keened.

At some point, the man had taken complete control of their kiss. Lips caressing, mouths coming together, Clark never wanted to stop.

Those countless written notes, he would bear into flesh.

The things left unspoken, what couldn’t be translated into words, he wanted to make it known, his heart and his soul, not a bit of it obscured, poured out between gasp and engraved with every kiss.

_‘I love you. I love you.’_

Bruce had to know. Why else was he clinging so tightly, kissing so desperately?

_‘I know. I know…I love you too…’_

It was like a sweet symphony, their hitched exaltations and pounding hearts.

Bruce felt dizzy, his chest was throbbing. The warmth was so abundant and overflowing.

Just like always, Clark was pouring into him everything he was and filling Bruce’s emptiness to the brim.

Bruce felt like he was drowning, but he didn’t care. He allowed himself to be swept by the current and plunged even deeper.

Bruce had decided. His mind was made up. He was going to hold on firmly and never let go again.

Clark trembled when he felt hands smooth up his back, and fingers sift through his hair.

Bruce was pressing their bodies so tight and searing feverish kisses all over Clark’s mouth. He wanted to leave his mark. Brand Clark’s lips so neither man would ever forget.

_‘You are mine, and I am yours.’_

Finally they pulled apart.

Somehow, Clark had been pushed back into Bruce’s desk and the maestro was practically straddling his waist.

As much as they both wanted to pursue this further, both in heart and in _body_ , this wasn’t the time or the place, and neither was sure when Jon and Damian would be back.

Clark’s glasses had fallen completely down to his nose. Bruce smirked at his disheveled appearance before straightening them back up and kissing Clark brow.

“Bruce, I love you.”

“I know,” Bruce hummed before leaning down and stealing another kiss.

_‘I love you too…’_

***************************************************

“Jason? Is that really you?”

Before even looking, Jason already knew who it was. There was no mistaking that amiable voice.

“Dick,” Jason mumbled while turning around.

“Or is it _Master Grayson_ , now?” he smirked.

Dick smiled. He didn’t miss Jason’s lofty tone nor did he misread his flippant expression.

“Still as _cheeky_ as ever, I see.”

“As sure as you are _flashy_ ,” Jason countered.

Dick chuckled. “Fair enough.”

His eyes softened. “Jason…it’s really good to see you again. I-”

“Don’t you start with me too.” Jason warned. “Besides, that’s not what we’re here for tonight.”

“I guess you’re right, but still, how else do you expect me to act when I haven’t seen you in years?”

Jason looked guiltily away and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, I’ve been busy.”

“Yes, I heard about your position at the church.”

“Of course Bruce went blabbing to you.” Jason muttered.

“Well,” Dick chuckled. “I admit hearing that you work at a church was surprising, but finding out you’re instructing isn’t.”

Jason crossed his arm. “Really now?”

“Yeah, it seems fitting considering what a _brat_ you were to teach.”

Jason snorted. “Oh, so this is my punishment, huh?”

“To an extent, but at the same time,” Dick’s smile warmed “I think it suits you.”

Jason snorted and Dick pretended not to see his faint blush.

“Well, I guess I’ll let the years of silence slide by considering your position now, and I’m glad you weren’t too busy to make it tonight.”

“Yeah, I guess it helps that we’ve gotten more help around the church.”

Dick lifted a brow. “Oh?”

“Yeah, an _anonymous_ philanthropist donated a large sum of money to the church. After that, we were able to complete some long overdue renovations, and the new and improved church started to attract more attendance.”

“I see.” Dick hummed.

“So how long do you boys intend to stand at the entrance and block a lady’s way?”

Both Dick and Jason nearly jumped when they heard a beguiling voice behind them.

“S-Selina.” Dick stammered. How the woman snuck up on them while wearing heels that high was a mystery.

Her smile curled, and she boldly looked Dick up and down.

“Hello, Dick,” she purred and then nodded at Jason. They’d never met until now, but she knew enough about him to recognize who he was.

“Well, I guess it looks like the whole gang is getting back together,” Jason sarcastically snorted.

“Yeah,” Dick agreed. “I’ve been running into a lot of familiar faces tonight, and even saw Babs and Tim in the main hall.”

Selina let out an impatient sound.

“Well, feel free to get your merry little band back together, but don’t you think we have more important places to be right now?”

Dick’s eyes widened, and he looked at his watch. “Oh man, were going to be late!”

“Yes, and whose fault is that,” Selina sighed.

Dick gave her a sheepish grin before offering up his arm to her. “Well, assuming we all received the same invitations, I’m guessing we’re all headed in the same direction?”

Selina’s disapproving lips curled to a smile.

“Always such a charmer,” she smirked while happily accepting the gesture and allowing him to escort her up the balcony.

Jason rolled his eyes but followed behind them.

After settling into their seats the trio exchanged some more light banter. That is until the doors to the private balcony suddenly flew open.

“See, we made it just in time,” a boy with messy hair and a carelessly strung together tie wheezed.

It was clear the two new arrivals had run up the entire flight of balcony stairs.

The shorter boy scowled at his companion. “I never would have forgiven you otherwise!”

“I told you already, Damian. I’m sorry,” Jon whined.

“Well, well, so nice of you to finally join us.”

Damian frowned back at Dick.

“What a disgrace. I showed up after _this_ slacker?”

“Don’t worry, Dami,” Dick grinned while patting the chair next to him. “I made sure to save you the best seat.”

Damian glared at Dick without an ounce of amusement.

“Unbelievable,” he grumbled while begrudgingly taking the seat. Never mind the fact that Dick actually saved the center most spot.

“I should have been the first one here,” he continued to complain.

Jon shamefully dropped his head and sighed before Dick kindly reassured them.

“Well, what’s important is that you made it, right?”

Damian’s chest swelled up. “Of course!” he huffed. He then looked towards the stage with visible pride and anticipation. “There is no way I would miss father’s first performance.”

**********************************************

He could feel it pounding. So much so his entire body was trembling.

The clamoring of the audience was saturating the air. He was completely surrounded by noise, but he wasn’t going to let it over take him. Here in this moment the only thing he needed to hear was the beating of his own heart.

Bruce closed his eyes and focused on the sound. The staccato of a racing pulse was proof that he was alive.

He could hear it clearly now like never before, the sound of his heart, the song of his soul. Too many years it’d been silenced. Stifled and stilled by the weight of grief and pain, but once again it was beating and ready to be heard.

Bruce took in a slow deep breath. The heat of blaring lights was relentless, the creak of wood at his feet was tense. No matter how resolved he’d been earlier, he still couldn’t seem to shake his nervousness.

It was one thing to play on the stage as Damian’s back up, but to go at it alone after so many years-

“Are you ready?”

Bruce’s eyes fluttered back open, and he we was met with a fond smile of the man that he loved.

_‘Clark…’_

That’s right. He wasn’t alone, and he never would be again.

Even if he didn’t have the strength on his own, Clark and everyone who cared about him would be there right by his side, supporting him through everything, be it good or bad.

Bruce had forgotten how important being supported felt, but now standing here again, he was reminded of a nine year old boy anxiously waiting at the end of the stage, vision blurred by the lights and breath short with anticipation.

He’d been so afraid at that time, but then he heard the voice of the one he loved cheering and urging him forward.

 _‘You can do it Bruce. Play your heart out, and no matter what, I’m always your number one fan!_ ’

Bruce smiled back at Clark.

Sure the beautiful music had been written for him, but this was Clark’s debut as well. Had the two of them never met, this song never would’ve been created. Clark claimed the piece was written for Bruce alone, but he was wrong. This wasn’t just his story.

Bruce’s heart was the embodiment of his soul, and the people and experiences he’d encountered throughout his life helped shape who he was today.

Sure he didn’t always have the right words to express this, but that still didn’t erase the feelings inside his heart.

Sadness, happiness, pain, joy, sorrow… _love_ , they were all one and the same. Like notes collected together, feelings locked inside a person are meaningless unless brought together and composed into expression.

Somehow Clark had done this. He’d peered into Bruce’s soul and masterfully formed it into song.

That’s why, this time Bruce would play his part. There was no way he could let Clark’s feelings go to waste. The beauty and pain Clark saw inside of him, he poured out his own soul seeking and writing it out.

So Bruce would play. From the deepest depths of his heart, he would expose every bit of himself and lay bare his soul so the world could hear the beautiful music the two had composed together. 

Bruce sat at the piano of the sold out theater house.

Slowly his eyes drifted back open, and the first thing he saw was his fingers at the keys. The sensation of ivory against skin felt so natural and liberating. How had he gone so long separated from this perfect sensation?

Bruce tore his gaze away from the piano and looked towards the end of the stage. Clark was waiting for him with baited breath.

Bruce smiled and Clark smiled back. There was nothing the two of them couldn’t accomplish together.

“Alright,” Bruce exhaled while straightening up at the bench and striking the first key.

_‘Let’s share our song with the world.’_

The End!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHHHH! I can’t believe it’s finally finished! So many feels, I don’t even know what to say! I’m feeling so light and fluffy right now, lol!
> 
> Thank you, THANK YOU so much to everyone who took the time to read this story! Over the last year so many of you have encouraged and supported this fic, it never would've happened without you. I can’t even begin to tell you how many times I stumbled and almost quit. It’s really hard dedicating a year of your life to something (anything), but looking back at it now, I’m happy with what was accomplished and have no regrets.
> 
> I hope the ending was satisfying too. I know it wasn’t perfect, but I at least hope everyone whose read from beginning to end got something special out of this fic. Whether it was just a little bit of entertainment, some Superbat feels, or even a tiny bit of hope and encouragement, that’s the least I could wish for :)
> 
> I’m so glad to finally give Bruce and Clark the happy ending they deserved. Sure they both still have a ways to go, but together they’ll make it! Whether they heal all their scars or just learn to live with them its fine. Everything that happens to a person can’t necessarily be fixed, but if you at least acknowledge the things that come into to your life and never give up, you can keep moving forward, and also remember it’s okay to look towards support, and we're not as alone as we all believe we are in this world. Just as long as we are willing to keep our eyes and hearts open <3
> 
> Haha, okay, I think this fic is getting to me. I feel like I’m rambling and spouting too much fluff.
> 
> So the story is finished, but I’m still not done. I actually plan to write a few short epilogue accompaniments. I think I definitely owe it to all the Jon/Dami fans. I didn’t want to make their friendship about romance in this story because I have weird feelings about pairing children, but there’s nothing wrong with doing a time skip to where they are older ;) So look forward to some Jon/Dami romance (finally), and I also have some Clark/Bruce things planned as well. I can’t wait to share, and I hope everyone will stick around for it!
> 
> So the song I chose for this fic was one I decided on awhile ago.
> 
> I will admit, I’m actually a huge fan of Vocaloid music. Some of the Vocaloid composers have produced the most amazing music I’ve ever heard created in my lifetime (such talented individuals)! So of course, one of my favorite composers is a pretty well renowned writer (for anyone who is familiar with the Vocaloid scene), Ryo.
> 
> So the final song I chose for this fic is called _Odds &Ends_ by Ryo. I happened to stumble upon the lyrics of this song while writing this fic, and the lyrics really touched me (they were perfect)!
> 
> The song is about a lonely creator who can’t properly express himself and is let down a lot by the world. So Miku (who I feel is the personification of music itself) offers up her voice to help him, but later in the song you find out the person loses his way in life, and even turns his back on Miku. After realizing too late what he’s done, he feels like he’s failed not only Miku but also himself.
> 
> By the end, though, he realizes how much happiness and pain are a tandem part of life, and you can’t turn away from either if you want to continue moving forward in life. So he picks himself back up again, and walks hand and hand supporting and being supported by Miku and continues to use her voice and song as an instrument of strength and expression (p.s I really think this is a song Ryo wrote about himself as a composer and it’s just perfect).
> 
> Anyways, I really think this song ended up having a lot in common with this fic, and it’s such a beautiful composition. I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> This is the piano version, and I like to imagine it’s a song Clark wrote for Bruce:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=92q_LAv1nEI
> 
> The original version:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O5edET6NC_Q
> 
> A really good vocal cover for those of you who don’t jive with the vocaloid voices:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QpqCLcexMiQ
> 
> UPDATE:
> 
> The day after I posted the last chapter, Yamada created this AMAZING PERFECT artwork to represent the ending, and I'm so happy to share it. Thank you so much YAMI <3  
> http://lord-yamada.tumblr.com/post/164633176641/a-gift-for-my-lovely-friend-glasshalfdruunk
> 
> I also love the speedpaint, which I've watched a hundred times now (lol), and the animated intro melted my heart. Please enjoy ;)  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fc_TCH2_6pQ


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